Another World
by Toffeecrisp
Summary: It is 1952 and eighteen months have passed since the conclusion of 'Another Life'. Charles, Molly and their family are settling into their new life in the Cotswolds but what will the future hold for them and for Molly's sister, Bella? This is a continuation of the story first begun in 'Another Time Another Place'.
1. Chapter 1

**_After the conclusion of 'Another Life' a few people expressed the view that there were some unresolved questions. Although I wasn't intending to write any more stories after the Misunderstood stories, I found myself thinking about the characters and their new life and wondering what might have happened in later years. Those thoughts, combined with being away on holiday in wet weather, prompted me to revisit them and I realised that there was a little more of their story to tell. So, this isn't a new story but a short continuation of the previous tales. I know this version of Charles and Molly isn't for everyone but I think that one of the great things about fanfiction is that whether you like action, romance, drama, angst, historical, humour or AU there is something on this site to suit all tastes. I hope those of you who enjoyed 'Another Time Another Place' and 'Another Life' will enjoy this. Thank you for reading._**

 **Chapter One**

As Bella pushed open the front door at Greystones a gust of wind that had rolled up through the valley, gathering in pace and strength as it raced on its way northwards, whipped the handle from her grasp causing the door to bang against the wall in the hallway. The brass knocker rapped on the base plate, signalling her arrival.

"What the..?" called Molly emerging from the kitchen, wiping her soapy hands on her apron. She took in the sight of her sister balancing parcels on her right arm in an awkward fashion as she sought to recapture the open door with her left.

"Should've known it would be you," Molly said, rolling her eyes and hurrying along the hallway to shut the front door behind Bella.

Bella marched ahead carrying the parcels into the kitchen.

"Blimey, it might be spring but it's still nippy out," she called over her shoulder. The chill wind had brought a bloom to her cheeks, that and riding the delivery bicycle uphill all the way from Nethercombe. As she entered the kitchen she saw the twins, Edward and Rose, sitting in their high chairs and making a mess of something that looked like it had once been Shepherd's pie. Half of Edward's lunch seemed to be smeared across his face and the other half across the food tray in front of him. Rose, in a more presentable condition, was engaged in watching her brother. There was calmness about Rose. Almost from the moment they were born, Rose had let her brother do the talking. He always woke first in the morning, cried first when he was hungry, became bored and demanded attention first; Rose followed in his wake. Molly had observed to Charles that there were no flies on Rose. She had realised almost from her earliest days that there was no point in expending her energies making demands on her mother when her brother was prepared to do it all for her.

"Look at you, Eddie. You're in a right mess," Bella called out on catching sight of her nephew. She grinned at him and he returned the smile, kicking his legs and bashing the food tray with the spoon in his right hand. Rose watched him out of the corner of her eye but carried on munching sedately.

Molly walked into the kitchen and regarded her eighteen month old twins with a smile of resignation. She was grateful that William was at school as Edward and Rose were a handful at the best of times. When she had first discovered she was expecting twins, late into her pregnancy, she had been astonished but relieved to discover that there had been a good reason for the rapid expansion of her waistline at such an early stage compared to her experience with William. "At least I know I'm not having an elephant," she had joked to Charles. But no sooner had she felt relief at the explanation then it was superseded by the realisation that she would have far more to contend with this time around. In the weeks and months following Edward and Rose's birth, Molly's previous experience of motherhood had been invaluable, however, she found herself constantly comparing the events and realising how difficult everything seemed this time around with two babies to care for.

At Dr Sanderson's suggestion and Charles' urging, Molly had reluctantly agreed to go into a Maternity Home in Cirencester for the birth of the twins. She hadn't enjoyed being there especially as she was admitted early to allow Dr Sanderson to monitor her blood pressure and to give her time to rest. She had spent almost two weeks sitting around with very little to occupy her apart from magazines that Bella regularly sent her via Charles and books that the well-meaning Sister Jones had brought her from the local library.

"War and bloody Peace," Molly hissed at Charles waving the hefty tome in front of her. "How long is she expecting me to be in here?"

Charles knew that Molly wasn't a great reader. She wasn't accustomed to sitting around in idleness and didn't have hobbies that would help her pass the time in this situation. She was impatient for the birth to happen and desperate to get home again as soon as possible. It was hard on Will being separated from his mother and although Bella was doing a great job of looking after him, taking him to school and fetching him each day and trying to keep his spirits up, it was evident that he missed his mother very much and she missed him.

When, in the last week of October, Molly went into labour she was almost elated that everything was finally happening despite her concerns that something might go wrong this time. She knew there were greater risks with a twin birth but Dr Sanderson had tried to reassure her. He had attended the births of many twins over his years in practice and he had no cause to be worried, she was young, fit and healthy and there had been no problems with this pregnancy or the birth of William. All the signs were good. The labour progressed well and she had been fortunate that little Rose was born first, correctly positioned, head down. She was small, doll-like and perfect with a fuzz of red hair and piercing blue eyes which blinked as they became accustomed to the brightness of the room. Molly held her daughter in her arms, welcomed her and kissed her forehead, gazing in wonder at her; the miracle of birth renewed.

"Don't get too comfortable there, Mrs James, " Dr Sanderson had called, "we've a bit more work to do, yet."

For a brief moment, Molly was reminded of something Charles had once told her about the verbal slips intelligence officers sometimes made in the briefing sessions before bombing missions during the war, including themselves as part of the collective effort whilst merely flying a desk and she was tempted to call back to the doctor, "What do you mean 'we'?" As far as she could remember, she had done all the hard work so far. Instead she bit her tongue and trying to joke despite her exhaustion said, "Are you expecting me to do that again?"

"Don't worry," Dr Sanderson replied with a smile, "the second one is usually a lot easier."

Within a few minutes the contractions had started again but to Molly's relief Dr Sanderson had been proved right. In spite of Edward being in the breech position, the birth was easier and quicker. Within fifteen minutes of Rose's birth Molly was sitting up in bed proudly welcoming her second son into the world.

Later she had lain in bed watching the twins together in their cot. Rose, swaddled in a pink blanket had fallen asleep but Edward, wrapped in blue, had stayed awake for more than an hour gazing at his surroundings, unfocused but curious of the world around him and taking everything in.

"Look at him," Sister Jones murmured as she gazed into the cot. "He doesn't want to miss a thing."

Rose continued to sleep; she was already allowing her brother to keep watch over her.

When Charles had arrived to see them all two hours later, he had been speechless. He looked into the cot at his sleeping son and daughter and a smile overspread his face. He remembered the joy of William's birth on that freezing cold Februrary day in 1945 and the creeping realisation that he was finally a father and had a family and a whole set of new responsibilities. At that moment during the war he felt simply blessed to have been given the chance to take on those responsibilities and had welcomed and embraced them but this time as he gazed at his wife and newborn children he saw a lifetime filled with possibilities stretching ahead of him and knew it would be one in which his family would be his entire world.

Within a week of the twins' birth, Molly had returned home to William's great happiness. However, he soon grew tired of the crying that assaulted his ears every two hours without fail. It was mostly Edward who started crying but in that first week even Rose joined in from time to time. Initially, they decided to be hungry at different times and Molly found herself feeding one or other of them every hour. They had thrived although Molly felt as though she had lost all sense of time as life at Greystones was dominated by the unbending regime of feeds and nappy changes, day and night. At first she had tried to carry on with all the jobs in the house, feeling that she shouldn't let things slip. She had always been strong and capable but it had begun to feel like a never-ending treadmill punctuated by constant demands from screaming babies. It was only when Charles found her up to her elbows in buckets of soaking nappies at ten o'clock one evening, dark-rings around her eyes and unresponsive to his enquiries that he had taken her to one side and told her to leave the housework and concentrate on the children.

"None of us will be any worse off for a bit of dirt and dust in the house. You don't need to try to so hard, Molly, you're wearing yourself out." He looked at her with real concern. He knew her too well and words alone were unlikely to stop her.

He had been right; she was exhausted and despite help from Bella when she wasn't working, nothing was being done with any efficiency. In the end Charles had done more than just to talk to Molly. He had engaged a young girl from the village to come up and help Molly with the housework for a few months and it had been enough to turn things around. Edward and Rose began to settle down and once weaned Edward became less demanding and more content. The house was kept clean and shipshape and Molly regained her sense of perspective and humour. By the time the twins were six months old she was back on top of the housework and able to manage by herself, much to her relief.

It had been a difficult time for William too. He had longed for his mother to come home after the birth of the twins and been curious about them. Many of his friends at school had brothers and sisters but none of them had ever acquired one of each at the same time which made him feel special. He had high hopes for them, having been assured that he would have playmates in the future and had been boasting about their arrival at school. He had almost been jumping for joy on the day they came home with his mother. She had hugged him close to her and told him how much she had missed him. He had looked into the carrycot at the sleeping babies and felt disappointed that they were doing nothing very interesting. As the day wore on and the babies constantly took his mother's attention away from him he felt even more disappointed. It was hard to see what fun they could possibly be. He had sloped away to his bedroom to play with his cars and later when one of them had started screaming he had lain on his bed and covered his ears with his pillow to block out the sound.

As the days went on however, he had learned to live with the sound of them wailing and after a few weeks could sit in the same room as one of them whilst they screamed and pay no attention to the noise whatsoever. When Colin, his friend from school and the second oldest of five children, had come to play one afternoon he had seemed quite at home with all the disorganised comings and goings at Greystones and to William's horror said his mother had a baby nearly every year and William was lucky to have his own bedroom because he had to share a room with his two brothers.

When Molly had been putting William to bed that evening he had asked her with a look of concern on his face whether he would have to share his bedroom with Eddie.

"Do you want to?" Molly asked.

He shook his head vigorously.

"Then you don't have to. Why did you ask?"

He told her what Colin had said and she realised what a worried little boy he was.

"I'm sorry, I'm a bit busy with Eddie and Rose and the moment, Will, but they can't do anything for themselves, right now, not like you. You'll be able to show them how everything's done when they're bigger. You might not think a lot of them at the moment but they'll always be your family and you'll be glad of them when you're all grown up." She ruffled his hair and thought of life in the Dawes household before the war. She'd been the eldest child and could well remember the arrival of each of her siblings and the feeling that each time another baby had been born her mother had taken a step further away from her but she'd never doubted that Betty loved her and she was determined that Will would never be in doubt either. Now, eighteen months later, William seemed as comfortable with Edward and Rose as they were with him. Whenever he came home from school they would toddle towards him full of excitement at his appearance and he always bent down to hug and kiss them. Molly was sure that William was going to be the type of big brother to Edward and Rose that she had always longed for when she was a child. she gazed at the twins and smiled at the thought of all the fun they would have in the future until her imaginings were interrupted.

"Any of that Shepherd's Pie left?" Bella enquired, "I'm starving. I swear I must have ridden about ten miles up and down the valley road, today."

She wandered over to the stove and looked at the dish sitting on the top.

"Help yourself," Molly called. Bella started spooning the meat and potatoes onto a plate and looking over at Molly said,

"Mrs Stimpson got a letter from Tom yesterday. " Her voice was level and matter-of-fact. Tom's National Service was drawing to an end and in a few more months he would be returning from the army to take up his life here in Nethercombe again. Molly knew that Bella was counting down the days until his return.

When Bella had joined Molly and Charles at Greystones in the summer of 1950 it had been viewed as a temporary arrangement that suited all three of them. Bella had been out of work at the time and her mother's patience had been tested by her inability to settle in a job. She had been a great help to Molly, helping to get the house in order, looking after William and sorting out the gardens with the advice of Ted Chadwick and help from a young lad called Paul Miller who came up twice a week to keep the lawns and the weeds under control. Bella hadn't given her long-term future a thought. She had been expecting to stay for a few months until Molly's baby was born and then return to London and probably be persuaded to take up another secretarial post equally as dull as the previous two. But then, in that first week, she had met Tom and everything had changed.

Tom was Bella's first proper boyfriend. Their relationship had sparked from the moment of their first meeting when Tom had mistaken her for the domestic help at Greystones and felt the full force of her annoyance. She wasn't like the other girls he had grown up with in the village and he'd been intrigued by her. She was a girl of contradictions. She was a Londoner born and bred and used to the big city with all its charms. She was bright, feisty, quick-witted, alive with confidence and surety and yet she loved life in the countryside, appreciated its beauty and the slower pace of life and had settled down here easily and made friends. She had confounded Tom's expectations at every turn and he hadn't been able to help himself falling for her.

Their time together had been a short, sweet interlude before fate, in the form of the National Service Act, had intervened and sent Tom away for his basic training. After only two months of a fledgling romance they were separated. Bella had taken up the offer of working in Mr Stimpson's shop and she often joked that she knew his parents better than she knew him now. She'd certainly spent more time with them during the past eighteen months.

Robert and Marjorie Stimpson were a kindly couple who had taken to Bella and enjoyed her quick wit and chirpy nature. Working in the shop brought her into contact with lots of people in the village and had been the surest way of getting to know everyone. She was able and competent and remembered everyone's likes and dislikes. She loved to pass the time of day with everyone and conveyed all the local gossip to Molly and Charles. To Mr and Mrs Stimpson she was almost like the daughter they had never had. Tom was their only child. Mrs Stimpson had once confessed to Bella in a quiet moment that things hadn't gone well with his birth and the doctor had said there wouldn't be any more after him, not that she wasn't grateful for her son. She was proud of him but missed him while he was away and was glad of Bella's company.

Tom hadn't been a particularly good correspondent while he was away and Bella sometimes waited several weeks to hear from him. When she did get a letter it was often full of news about what he and his mates had been doing in their spare evenings when they were off duty and she couldn't help reflecting that although she was glad he was having a good time and enjoying himself, she didn't seem to be uppermost in his mind. Sometimes when she hadn't heard from him for a while she worried that he'd lost interest in her. She'd always been led to believe that absence made the heart grow fonder but she wasn't sure it was true in Tom's case. By contrast she had no doubts about herself.

"What's Tom been up to then?" Molly enquired

"Having all sorts of fun and games by the sounds of things," Bella replied adding, "I think he's enjoyed being in the army more than being here. He'll probably find it dull when he gets back."

Molly thought that Bella sounded as if she was concerned about him settling when he returned.

"He'll be glad enough to be back," Molly said. "He must have missed being with you. He's only had a few weeks here since he left."

It was true enough that Tom had returned home on leave on several occasions during the past eighteen months but each time Bella had barely become used to him being around before his leave was over. As soon as he returned to the army she found herself missing him all over again and in Charles' view, "Moping around like a wet weekend."

"At least he's only got a few more months to go, " Molly said, "so cheer up and look forward to it, the time will fly by, you'll see."

She glanced at the kitchen clock on the wall and saw that it was already a quarter past one. Bella must have been late returning from work as she was normally here by twelve thirty; she'd been right about all the time spent on deliveries today. Molly was due to meet Marjorie Stimpson in the village at quarter to two. She started untying her apron strings,

"I need to get a move on, Bella. Can you manage here?"

Bella rolled her eyes, "course, I can. What do you reckon, Eddie and Rosie?" She grinned at her nephew and niece. Edward stared at her open mouthed before grinning back. Rose looked at her in silence and then carried on eating.

"I'll fetch Will from school on my way back," Molly called over her shoulder as she hurried along the hall heading for the stairs. She looked down at her plain blue, everyday dress. It was fine for housework but she definitely couldn't go out without changing. She had been putting this off for months and now that the decision was made she didn't want to make the wrong impression. It was no good. The dress simply wouldn't do at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Charles threw down his fountain pen, leaned back in his chair, and stretched his arms in front of him before clasping them behind his head and exhaling. He rubbed the back of his neck to relieve the stiffness that had crept into the muscles from bending his head over the desk for the past two hours and blinked, trying to refocus his eyes. He hated paperwork. It was the worst part of his job here at the airfield.

Charles employed a part-time bookkeeper to ensure the accounts and ledgers were up-to-date; Miss Parkhurst. She was a prim, grey-haired, business-like spinster of indeterminate age although Charles judged she must be at least fifty or possibly even sixty. He sometimes joked to Molly that Pankhurst would have been a more appropriate surname as she was a stickler for correctness, insisting on not only being called by her title but refusing to call Charles by his first name as other employees like Donald MacKenzie were inclined to do. She asserted her rights at every opportunity and was forthright about her views on the employment of women, particularly married women and mothers, having told Molly on first meeting, "It's a disgrace to see talented young women with skills and experience tied to the kitchen sink the moment a man slips a ring on their finger. If women were good enough to be employed during the war it should make little difference now."

She heartily approved of Molly, respecting the fact that she was a skilled mechanic and pilot and consequently considered Charles to be a very modern and enlightened husband and employer. Thankfully, she was as good at her job as her assertions about women's abilities suggested she ought to be and had proved efficient and reliable. When Charles had once ventured to Molly, "I wonder if Miss Parkhurst would have a different view if 'Mr Right' had come along?" Molly had given him a long searching look and said, "That's the worst thing I've heard you say about women since you told me during the war that flying was a 'man's job'."He remembered that arrogant quip so well, the first time he had laid eyes on Molly Dawes at RAF Milton back in 1943. Well, she'd proven him wrong by becoming a competent pilot herself just like the many female ATA pilots he'd seen ferrying aircraft in the later years of the war.

Molly had then giggled and said, "You'd better watch out, Charles, 'cos it looks like Miss Parkhurst thinks _you're_ Mr Right when it comes to husband material."

In spite of her ways, Charles liked Miss Parkhurst. He knew exactly where he stood with her. She liked everything just so and the correct rules of behaviour observed and to him it felt not unlike being back in the RAF where each knew their place determined by rank.

Aside from the everyday work at the airfield, there was, of course, a whole set of other paperwork that only Molly knew anything about. Everything that related to the other activities at the airfield in the services of the government was shrouded in mystery, disguised and kept firmly under the control of Gerald Harker.

During the past eighteen months Charles and Molly had come to know Gerald Harker and his wife, Felicity, better. A strange combination of factors had brought them to each other's attention: the purchase of Greystones following the death of Gerald Harker's Aunt, Richard Murray's recommendation of Charles to Gerald and Gerald's investigation into the strange disappearance of Alice Delaney in 1917, ultimately resulting in the discovery of a body at Hester Rise which was accepted to be that of the unfortunate Alice. The realisation that Gerald's Uncle Maurice, may have had involvement in Alice's death could have created difficulty, but with no blame ever been attached following the 'open verdict' of the inquest, Gerald was content to let the matter lie and was happy to continue with the proposal he had made to Charles.

The arrangement had proved satisfactory so far. Occasionally a light aircraft arrived at the airfield, often very late in the day or very early in the morning and invariably when activity was at its lowest point. A few packages would be unloaded and put away into a storage shed at the opposite end of the airfield away from the main buildings. They were usually collected under cover of darkness and Charles certainly never saw anyone there although he made a point of paying as little attention to the activities as possible. Very occasionally a passenger arrived and was met by an inconspicuous car and whisked away without delay. Charles received a regular payment and only he and Molly knew that the seemingly innocuous invoices and remittance advices from Chatsworth & Sons disguised their true origin and purpose.

However, Charles now had another problem with which to contend. Yesterday, Gerald had invited him over to Willow Dean House to discuss something in more detail. Charles had been to the house on a few occasions since that first nervous visit with Molly when they had been uncertain of Gerald's intentions or who they were dealing with. On the subsequent occasions Gerald had normally wished to discuss special arrangements with him. Charles had complied with his requests but taken the view that he didn't want to know any more than was necessary. He was happy to serve the government but he had no desire to know its secrets.

Gerald was a convivial host, happy to indulge his guest, ply Charles with compliments and, after deciding that the sun was over the yard arm, to offer him a stiff drink. Knowing the scotch would be of the highest quality, Charles accepted and sipped the amber liquid, feeling its warm, comforting glow spread over him.

"Well, Charles, how do you feel our arrangement is working?" Gerald fixed his gazed upon Charles waiting for a response.

Charles wondered what was behind the question. "Very well, Gerald. I trust you're happy with the way everything is operating."

Gerald nodded, "Certainly. We're very happy indeed. However," he paused and took a deep breath, "we'd like to step things up a bit."

Charles put down his glass, wondering what this would entail.

"We'd like to move more cargo through the airfield but it will mean improving the facilities and laying a concrete runway as soon as possible."

Charles raised his eyebrows. This was more than he had expected. Before he could respond, Gerald added, "We realise this will involve considerable expense and naturally funds will be made available for the work. However, you will need to make all the necessary applications for planning permission from the local council. Richard Murray will naturally assist you with the applications." He paused to allow Charles to take this information on board.

Charles' mind was racing. An expansion of this kind would open up many possibilities. Larger aircraft would be able to use the airfield, provided the runway was of sufficient length. He could expand the freight side of his business operations as well as maintaining the flying school. It was an appealing suggestion particularly as the cost would be met by Gerald's employers. Gerald must have realised it was an offer he couldn't refuse. He was sorely tempted to agree there and then but he remembered the one condition he had stipulated when he agreed to work for Gerald.

"I must discuss it with Molly before giving you an answer, but I'd be very surprised if we could find any reason to object to this proposal."

Gerald leaned forward and held out his hand to Charles, "I thought that would probably be the case, but please talk it over with her and let me know as soon as possible." Charles could tell that Gerald already considered it to be a done deal.

Sitting at his desk twenty four hours later, Charles wondered whether it would be quite as simple as it had sounded yesterday. Naturally, he had discussed the proposal with Molly when he returned home that night. She had immediately seen the benefits and been as excited as him about the possibilities.

As soon as he had walked through the door Molly had noticed a spring in his step.

"What's up with you tonight? You look like the cat who got the cream." She walked towards him, a quizzical expression upon her face, trying to fathom out the look in his eyes. It was half excitement, half playful. He reached out to grasp her by the waist as she drew near and pulled her close to him.

"Hey, what's this in aid of?" she laughed her arms naturally reaching up to rest on his shoulders as she leaned back a little, watching the smile hovering on his lips as he gazed down at her.

"Can't a man, kiss his wife when he comes home from work?"

"You'd better do it then," Molly chided him.

He leaned towards Molly and kissed her with such sudden, passionate haste that she was surprised and a little breathless when he released her a minute later and giggling she said in a hushed tone, "It's no good getting any ideas, Charles, Bella and the children are upstairs."

Charles sighed and hugged her close, stroking her long dark hair. "I love you Mrs James. Have I ever told you that?"

Molly laughed softly, "Yes. But remind me as often as you like."

For a brief moment Charles wished he and Molly had the house to themselves at this moment, "Oh, I'd like to remind you," he whispered, "but It looks like it will have to wait until later."

Molly reached up to touch his face, "Good job I'm the patient type then."

Charles laughed in disbelief, "Since when?"

"Since I realised that good things come to those who wait." Her tone was playful and Charles loved her for it. Not for the first time in the last ten years he thanked the good fortune that had brought Molly into his life that spring day back in 1943. He hadn't known it then but she had been destined to change his whole world.

They stood together in the hall, locked in a wordless embrace, each enjoying the quiet moment of togetherness, the feel of their arms around each other, Molly's head resting against Charles' chest, listening to his heart beating strong and steady. When he finally, reluctantly, released her, he reached for her hand and led her towards the lounge saying, "Come this way, I've got some news."

Like Charles, Molly could see no reason to object to Gerald's proposal. They had nothing to lose and everything to gain from the benefits it would bring and she readily agreed with him that they should accept the proposal. When Charles had called Richard Murray this morning he had been full of enthusiasm for the idea and ready to accept Richard's advice and assistance. The conversation had flowed much as expected with Richard running through the process and practicalities of putting the proposals forward for approval by the council. It was only as the conversation was drawing to a close that he had introduced one final point for consideration.

"There may be one slightly sticky point, Charles." Charles waited for Richard to advise him. "Your nearest neighbour, Sir Percival Wilton, isn't exactly a fan of the airfield. He's been expressing his views on it at every opportunity for the past fifteen years ever since The Air Ministry first acquired the site before the war. You were fortunate to purchase the lease when it became available."

Charles knew his name. He was a local dignitary, a Justice of the Peace and active in local politics.

"Unfortunately," Richard continued, "he's just been elected Chairman of the Planning Committee. We're going to have to tread very carefully with our application as I expect him to take a very dim view of it. We'll do everything we can to smooth the way for you, but we very much need it to be seen locally that the proposals are yours and yours alone. I'm sure you understand."

Hours later, sitting at his desk, trying to get his thoughts in order and put together the wording of the application Charles was beginning to appreciate how difficult his task was going to be. Richard was arranging for the necessary surveys and plans to be drawn up and for Charles to be furnished with all the technical details necessary but he needed to put forward sound reasons for the work to be done and state how he expected it to benefit the local area. He couldn't imagine that someone like Sir Percival Wilton was going to relish an increase in aircraft flying over his land and larger and noisier aircraft to boot. He was going to need more than a little luck to achieve his goal without relying on the intervention of those with considerably more power at their disposal than himself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Molly hurried down the road towards Nethercombe. It was almost quarter to two and she had been rushing to get herself ready. She was wearing her second best dress, the one she reserved for formal occasions such as going to church or visits to the solicitor's office with Charles, having judged it the most suitable she possessed. The wind had grown stronger and was tugging at the hat pinned firmly to her head, so much so that she placed a hand upon it to hold it in place. The last thing she wanted was to be seen chasing down the road after her hat. She was rushing to meet Marjorie at Stimpson's General Stores so that they could go to the meeting together.

Two days ago, Marjorie had finally persuaded Molly to attend a meeting of the Nethercombe Women's Institute much against Molly's better judgment.

"I can't see myself fitting in with a bunch of ladies like that," she had informed Marjorie over the counter whilst collecting her groceries after finally giving into her request in a moment of weakness, the doubt in her voice quite obvious to the older woman.

"Well, _I'm_ one of those ladies and us two get along alright, don't we?" Marjorie replied with a laugh. She gave her the kind of look with which Molly was now familiar, the one that said she wouldn't take no for answer.

"Yes, well, you're different." Molly was struggling to express what she meant. "You've always lived around here. I'm, well…" she pulled a face and putting on a refined accent said, "Probably not quite their cup of tea."

Marjorie sighed, "Just how long are you going to keep on like that. You've a damn sight more going for you then some of them, with everything you've done but you still seem so willing to let them scare you off. You're just what they need. It'll give them a good shake up to meet someone like you."

She saw Molly start at this idea, "I don't think I want to shake anyone up, Marjorie, I'm trying to fit in around here." Out of the corner of her eye Molly could see the shoulders of Marjorie's husband, Robert, shaking in mirth and tried to ignore the sight. Even Robert seemed to find the idea of Molly James joining the W.I. to be comical.

Marjorie nodded, "You will fit in here. Just you wait and see."

Molly still appeared to be unconvinced but Marjorie knew her words had done the trick. If Molly James thought the W.I. wasn't the right place for her then she was just going to have to change it from within.

Marjorie had soon got the measure of Molly when she had first arrived in Nethercombe. Within a few months of the James family moving into Greystones she and Molly had become good friends thanks to Robert. The very first time Molly had stepped into Stimpson's General Stores, he had recognised a fellow fish out of water.

When Robert had arrived in the village in 1931 he had been homeless, almost penniless and had nothing to offer but his experience of working in the shipyards on Jarrow. In those difficult days of the depression, he had been determined to find work and had ventured south and had the good fortune to be taken on for some casual farm labouring by Marjorie's father who had a small farm south of Nethercombe. He was strong, applied himself and worked without complaint for little more than his food and board. He had been blessed with spirit and resilience and his sense of humour had soon captured young Marjorie's heart, that and his undeniable good looks. She still remembered with a smile the first time she had caught sight of Robert digging in the vegetable patch near the kitchen on a hot June day, his shirt removed, the well-defined muscles on his broad chest, rippling with the effort each time the spade cut down into the soil. She had been peeking around the kitchen door when he had turned his head to catch sight of her watching him and with a broad grin had winked in her direction. She had blushed then and she almost did now remembering how the butterflies in her stomach had danced when he noticed her.

Marjorie's father had no difficulty in understanding what his daughter could see in his farmhand although he wasn't the son-in-law from traditional farming stock he had envisaged one day taking over from him when he retired. Robert had worked alongside Marjorie's father for several years after their marriage and done so willingly and with gratitude for the opportunity given to him at a difficult time but they all knew that farming wasn't really in Robert's heart. When old Mr Fuller, the owner of Nethercombe's village shop had decided to retire in 1938, Robert and Marjorie had realised their opportunity and, with some financial assistance from Marjorie's father, had purchased the lease and taken over the business. The war years had been difficult with the severity of rationing but their business had, by necessity, been steady and they had managed. With the worst of times behind them they were looking forward to a more settled future and pleased that Tom would be home for good in due course to carry on the family business.

The village hall was already half full by the time Molly and Marjorie arrived. Molly had been there on a number of occasions during the past couple of years, most recently to watch the Nethercombe Players production of Cinderella at Christmas. Although the sets had been a little shaky, as were one or two of the performances, William had thoroughly enjoyed the story and Charles and Molly had loved seeing his excited face as he watched the slapstick of Buttons and Baron Hardup and listened to the jokes and songs. Charles had urged William to join in with hissing at the Wicked Stepmother and had shouted out loudly "Oh no he's not" and "Behind you," at appropriate moments much to William's astonishment. Molly couldn't help but laugh at the sight of her young son wide-eyed with the surprise of hearing his normally polite and well-mannered father yelling loudly in a public place along with many other friends and neighbours. However, very soon he was joining in too, realising this was one occasion when he could yell to his heart's content without getting into trouble.

As Molly looked around the room this afternoon she recognised a few ladies she had encountered in passing in the village. One of the mothers she regularly saw at the village school nodded at her and smiled and she returned the greeting. Mrs Swinton was engaged in conversation with a tall, well-dressed, middle-aged lady who cut a rather imposing figure. As Mrs Swinton, the vicar's wife, caught Molly's eye she nodded slightly drawing the attention of her companion who turning her head, regarded Molly with curiosity. She was a fair-haired, handsome woman and under the scrutiny of her piercing blue eyes, Molly was sure she was being judged and probably found wanting. The woman turned back to Mrs Swinton and seemed to be making an enquiry. Whatever Mrs Swinton replied caused the woman's expression to change from one of curiosity to one of dawning realisation. She gave Molly another brief look before passing a final word with Mrs Swinton and making her way forward to sit in the front row of chairs set out before a table at which the Nethercombe W.I. President and committee members would sit when the meeting began.

"Who's that?" Molly asked indicating the woman who had been looking at her.

"Oh," Marjorie whispered, "that's Lady Wilton. She's really a resident of Cookham because she and Sir Percival live at Cookham Grange but they haven't got their own branch there so she joined ours. Why did you want to know?"

Molly shrugged, "I just caught her looking at me in a strange way," she paused. "I should have guessed she was something a bit grand and I suppose she lives in a big house an' all."

Marjorie pulled a face and keeping her voice low said, "The house is pretty smart by all accounts and has been in the family for two hundred years but they're not particularly liked. Sir Percival's a difficult chap who seems to have a finger in every pie round here and her Ladyship's always making her feelings known about everything we do here. She'd like to be President and stood last time but the members here won't vote her in seeing as she's not even from the village."

The conversation between Molly and Marjorie was brought to a close by the President calling the meeting to order and they settled down to hear the news and announcements and then to listen to an illustrated talk from one of their members about beekeeping. Molly hadn't expected to find the talk very interesting but was carried along by the infectious enthusiasm of the speaker and the time passed very quickly. Before long she and the other ladies were making their way to the back of the hall to enjoy the customary tea and cakes with which every meeting concluded. One or two of the ladies stopped to speak to Marjorie and Molly and although Molly suspected from their accents that had they been back in London they wouldn't have all grown up in the same neighbourhood, they were friendly and polite. She had just started to tuck into a large slice of Madeira cake when she was startled by someone standing just behind her right shoulder who addressed her in a crystal clear voice with clipped upper-class tones.

"Mrs James?"

Molly swung around to find herself face to face with Lady Elizabeth Wilton. Conscious of her mouth being full of cake and not wanting to appear rude by speaking at the same time, Molly nodded, and raising her hand to her mouth sought to cover up the fact that she was trying to swallow the cake as quickly as possible.

"Allow me to introduce myself," Lady Wilton continued holding out her hand to Molly, "Elizabeth Wilton."

Molly took the proffered hand and replied, "How do you do?"

Lady Wilton nodded and regarded Molly with a fixed smile, "I believe that in a certain respect we are near neighbours."

"I'm sorry," Molly said with genuine confusion, "but I didn't know that you lived near Greystones."

Lady Wilton shook her head, "No, I meant that your husband's airfield at Nethercombe Heath borders our land."

"Oh," Molly replied, "I see." She didn't know what else to say.

Lady Wilton continued, "We are certainly well aware of its presence on a daily basis."

The smile was still there but Molly was sure that the remark wasn't intended to be a joke and couldn't help saying, "I'm sorry if it disturbs you but it was an airfield long before we took it over, so I assumed everyone was used to it by now and there are only a few light aircraft who use it." At the back of her mind was her conversation with Charles yesterday evening about the probable expansion of operations there but she had no intention of mentioning that subject.

Lady Wilton closed her eyes briefly and inhaled before replying in a controlled, impassive tone that did not deceive Molly, "It's always interesting to hear the opinions of those who aren't affected and particularly to hear how they consider it to be of so little consequence."

Molly felt herself starting to bristle with annoyance at Lady Wilton's attitude. It seemed obvious that the woman was determined to pick a fight with her having discovered her identity and sought her out for what seemed no better purpose than to complain about the airfield. Molly couldn't help thinking that no matter how well-bred she considered herself to be, Lady Wilton was being very rude. She tried to bite her tongue and rise above it but the haughty look on the older woman's face was too much and she couldn't help responding, "My husband only took on the lease to continue what was already there. I'm sorry if you don't like it and the occasional sound of an aeroplane interrupts your cucumber sandwiches on the lawn but you'd better complain to the Air Ministry who put it there in the first place because you're wasting your time with me."

Molly could tell at once that Lady Wilton was affronted and fixing Molly with a hard stare she almost hissed, "Good Day to you," and promptly turned on her heel leaving Molly and Marjorie to stare in silence at the sight of her leaving the hall.

X-X-X-X

"I told you, I shouldn't have gone." Molly muttered as she walked briskly along the lane heading in the direction of Nethercombe School to collect William. Marjorie, tottering along beside her, was struggling to keep up and called, "Slow down, Molly."

Molly stopped and turned around waiting for her friend. As Marjorie drew level Molly shrugged, "It was just like I thought it would be, full of la-di-dah ladies who acted like they couldn't understand a word I was saying." She shrugged, "It was like going to those bloody RAF cocktail parties during the war with Charles where I was the only one who hadn't gone to a private school."

Marjorie shook her head and started laughing, "You're exaggerating. They're not really like that."

"And I'm not like them," Molly retorted.

"All the more reason to join us then. It's what we need in Nethercombe. We need people with new and different ideas. Why do you think I said that you ought to give a talk at the one of the meetings?"

Molly sighed and rolled her eyes remembering the moment shortly after Lady Wilton had swept out of the village hall and Marjorie had remarked to the President who was passing that Molly would make an excellent guest speaker on a future occasion.

"Yes, Marjorie, why did you say that?"

Her friend turned to her and replied, "What better way to introduce yourself properly. Right now most of those ladies may well think you're a woman from the wrong end of London whose biggest achievement is doing alright for herself by marrying a chap like Charles but why don't you tell them a few things they don't know about you? None of _them_ are qualified pilots, able to mend aircraft engines, been awarded a medal from the King for bravery or solved an old mystery from donkey's years ago." She looked intently at her friend, "Tell them a few tales about that and you'll have them eating out of your hand. More than that, they'll respect you for the person you are. Isn't that what you want?"

Molly thought hard. Perhaps Marjorie was right. Perhaps all that she really wanted was for her fellow neighbours to know and respect her. She knew that they respected Charles. He carried a natural air of authority and his military service was reason enough for most people. He was polite, charming and well-mannered and being undeniably handsome always helped. She'd seen one or two of the local ladies more than a little aflutter when he spoke to them. Of course the locals respected Charles. As for Molly, some of the villagers who knew her liked her: Marjorie and Robert Stimpson, of course, Ted Chadwick the elderly gardener and his young protégé Paul. She always got on well with The Reverend Swinton who had been very kind to her when they had first arrived in Nethercombe and his wife was always polite but she knew that many others, many of whom had been at the meeting this afternoon, knew her only as the cockney wife of the handsome gentleman who lived at Greystones. Molly supposed that the past eighteen months during which she had spent so much time devoted to Rose and Edward hadn't helped to change that impression. If anything she had seemed to be keeping herself more separate than was necessary. Perhaps it was time to listen to Marjorie. She meant well and maybe she was right. It was time to introduce herself properly and start to play a full part in the life of the village.

"Alright you win. " Molly looked at Marjorie, "How long does the talk need to be?"

X-X-X-X

Charles had been busy all evening sitting in the small reception room at the rear of the house that he used as his study. He was pouring over local maps and plans and trying to gather together the information he needed to make his application to the council. There was no getting away from the fact that a concrete runway was going to create more air traffic and he needed to come up with convincing arguments that would win over the committee. Richard Murray had given him some background on the members and their interests. Most of the committee members were in business locally and Charles felt that an appeal to their commercial sense might be the best approach. He also wanted to gather support in the local area by talking to other local businesses and highlight the benefits that the improvement could bring for them and in terms of employment for local people. Richard's warning about Sir Percival Wilton was the thorn in his side. He felt that if he could gather enough support Sir Percival would have little choice but to give way but he would rather win him over somehow than fight his resistance.

The door to the study opened and Molly's head peeped around it, her eyebrows raised, silently asking for permission to enter. Charles stood upright, stretched, yawned and then laughing a little at himself beckoned Molly into the room. "What time is it?" he asked yawing again and adding, "God my neck hurts." He started to rub the back of his neck.

Molly padded towards him, "It's Half past ten. You've been in here for nearly three hours. Sit down and I'll rub your neck for you."

He sat on the nearest chair and turning his head towards her as she approached caught her eye, "I love it when you take charge."

"Do you?" she murmured reaching him and starting to massage his neck and shoulders, feeling him beginning to relax as her fingers did their work.

"You know I do," he whispered, reaching up to catch her hand for a second and pulling it to his lips he kissed it.

Molly smiled, "Are you making any progress?"

Charles sighed, "A little. I'm going to have to talk to the people who matter and get some support from those who make the decisions around here. I've made a couple of arrangements already that I meant to tell you about but I got distracted by William when I came home."

Molly smiled remembering that William had dragged Charles upstairs to his bedroom wanting him to help him with a model aircraft he was building and the two of them had been happily engaged in gluing miniature wooden pieces of fuselage together until it was William's bath time. Charles had ended up eating his evening meal alone in the kitchen apart from the sound of Bella singing along to the radio in the lounge before she disappeared upstairs to read a magazine.

Recalling something, Charles continued, "I meant to ask you earlier but you were busy with William's bath, how did your Women's Institute Meeting go?"

Molly stopped massaging Charles's shoulders and he twisted his head to look at her. He saw her bite her lip and knew that it meant she was in two minds about something. He reached around him and grasping her by the waist pulled her down to sit on his lap, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer,

"Tell me about it. I can see your mind is whirring."

Her large green eyes gazed at him and she said with a small degree of hesitation, "Well, actually, I'm probably going to give a talk in a week or two about being in the WAAF and learning to fly and all that."

She saw his eyes widen in surprise and a smile slowly spread across his face, "That's brilliant."

Molly was encouraged by his support, "Well you can blame Marjorie for that. She said I should let people know more about me and what I've done."

Charles saw the animated look on her face and not for the first time felt immensely proud of her. He reached up to grasp her face between the palms of his hands and gently pulling her down towards him, kissed her, before whispering whilst her face was still close to his, "I hope they know what they're letting themselves in for."

Molly giggled, "Well, one of them does already. A very snooty Lady Wilton was being rude about the airfield so I told her to buzz off."

Molly saw the expression in Charles' eyes change from affection to concern. A frown furrowed his brow and releasing her from his embrace he repeated, "You told her to buzz off?"

Molly didn't know why he seemed bothered but she replied, "Well, not quite like that but she was going on about the noise and stuff and she annoyed me so I told her not to waste her breath."

Charles exhaled, "Oh dear."

Molly shook her head, "What do you mean, _oh dear?_ "

Charles looked into her eyes, "It was something I meant to tell you earlier. Sir Percival Wilton is Chairman of the Planning Committee and I called him this afternoon and invited him and his wife here for drinks on Friday."


	4. Chapter 4

**_Thank you for your kind reviews and comments. I really appreciate you taking the time to read this story._**

 **Chapter Four**

"Remember, Molly, leave it to me to introduce the subject." Charles, smartly dressed in his best suit and tie, paused and looked at his wife, "Molly, did you hear me?"

Molly was only half ready, her hair neatly pinned up and her make-up carefully applied but she was still wearing her dressing gown over her underwear and bending over Edward who was toddling around their bedroom waving a pair of her stockings in his left hand and refusing to give them back, his sticky fingers tightly gripped around the delicate fabric as she tried to coax him into releasing them.

"Eddie, be a good boy and give them back to Mummy, please." The 'please' was beginning to sound desperate and at that moment they heard a crash accompanied by a wail from next door. Molly, cried, "Rose, what's the matter?"

Charles sighed and shook his head realising that a sensible conversation was impossible at this moment, "I'll go."

He left the room and a few seconds later Molly heard him placating the little girl and saying, "No harm done." He returned to the bedroom with Rose in his arms. She had stopped crying, but her face was red and she was sucking her thumb and glaring at everyone as if they had been responsible for knocking the books off the shelf just now causing the noise that had frightened her.

Molly had succeeded in bribing Edward to give up the stockings in exchange for a wooden hairbrush which he was attempting to use on his own hair without much success. Molly sat down on the edge of the bed and started pulling on the stockings, rolling them up from her toe towards her thigh but she was in too much of a hurry and before she had fastened the clips she exclaimed under her breath, " Oh bugger. A ladder." She sighed, "I haven't got another clean pair."

Charles glanced at her legs and said in what he hoped was a reassuring voice, "I'm sure it won't notice."

Molly shook her head. "I'll know it's there. " She glanced at the clock on the bedside table, "Oh where on earth is Bella, she promised to be back in time and at this rate, his lordship and lady la-di-dah will be here and I won't be dressed." She gave Charles a sarcastic smile and added, "Perhaps I could just plonk Rose and Eddie down on her lap and ask her to give me a hand with them."

Charles would like to have laughed at this remark but he knew that Molly was far from happy about the drinks party. When he had told her about it three days ago she had stared at him in dismay, the memory of her encounter with Lady Elizabeth Wilton still very fresh in her mind.

"You've got to be pulling my leg," she had declared. But when Charles had assured her it wasn't a joke she had held her head in her hands and eventually said, "Are you expecting us to just have a nice social chit-chat and pretend she isn't a rude, stuck-up cow and he's not an arrogant, interfering busy-body that nobody likes."

Charles gave her a long look and replied, "Yes. That just about sums it up, Molly. I need you to do exactly that."

Molly had returned the look, unhappy about the difficult situation in which she found herself but resigned to the fact that she had no choice.

"Alright, Charles, but you'd better make it up to me for putting me through this."

A smile hovered in the corners of his mouth and he stepped towards her reaching out and placing his hands on her hips, "What can I do for you?"

She felt his hands slowly moving lower, gliding across the fabric of her dress, caressing her curves, pulling her ever nearer to him, the smile now in full evidence. He lowered his lips to hers and when they were just inches apart she whispered, "Oh, no, not that, Charles. That's much too easy."

He lifted his head and looked at her, frowning, "What then?"

"It's time I took Rosa Mark Two out for a spin. It's been a long time. Too long."

Charles shook his head, mocking himself for not seeing this coming, "You devious woman." This time he leaned in and kissed her before she could say any more, pressed his body close to hers and took full advantage of fact that she was enfolded in his arms. Pausing for breath he murmured, "Alright, it's a deal, but right now, Mrs James, it is most definitely time for bed."

Seeing Molly the following morning at breakfast, chattering with the children, scolding Bella for telling William a silly joke he was bound to repeat all day and deftly cooking breakfast, clearing up the mess Edward had made, running through the errands that needed to be done as well as sewing a button onto Bella's cardigan before she left for work, Charles had to remind himself that she was so much more than just the little wife who stayed at home to fulfil her domestic duties, cooking and cleaning all day. She was a great mechanic and a very competent pilot who had been out of the cockpit for too long. It was clear from last night that she was missing flying.

They had called their newest Tiger Moth trainer, Rosa II, in honour of Charles' much missed sports car and it had been a long while since Molly had been able to take a flight. Charles determined to talk to Donald MacKenzie about the current training schedules and find a time for her next week. She deserved a treat and not just for agreeing to the drinks party; she deserved a thank you for everything she did for all of them. As he turned to go that morning he looked across the kitchen, catching Molly's attention and talking over the heads of those sitting at the table said, "I'll talk to Donald about that favour. One good turn deserves another."

Molly gave him the smile that she reserved only for him, the one accompanied by a mischievous twinkle in her eye, "Glad you appreciate it."

He winked at her, "Oh, I always appreciate you."

Now here they were expecting an imminent visit from Sir Percival and Lady Wilton and very far from ready. Charles had given the matter a lot of thought during the past few days and come to the conclusion that the only way he was likely to overcome Sir Percival's potential hostility to the expansion of the airfield's activities was to get to know the man better. If he could understand the way Sir Percival's mind worked he might be able to find some common ground on which they could agree. The news that Molly had not only met Lady Wilton but crossed swords with her and over the matter of the airfield to boot had come as a blow but he had hidden it from her as best he could. He hadn't blamed her for speaking up for him and their business when she felt herself being provoked in such a manner. However, it was going to make the meeting awkward and he was going to have to rely on Molly to be a confident and charming hostess throughout. He knew that she had it within her to carry off this role if she really wanted to but he was also aware of some of her insecurities and knew that polite social chit-chat over canapés and cocktails was not the ideal situation for her to demonstrate these qualities. She had never enjoyed the social side of life as the wife of an RAF officer and, for her sake, he had tried to keep these occasions to a minimum but this time he felt he had no choice. Knowing this could turn into an uncomfortable ordeal for Molly and wanting to relieve any sources of tension as much as he could, Charles had also invited Richard Murray and his wife, Kate. They had met a couple of times in the past when invited to dinner with Gerald and Felicity Harker and Molly had got along well with Kate. He hoped that she would to be a supportive ally.

When the doorbell rang Molly was almost ready but Charles hurried ahead to open the door for Richard and Kate. Molly was glad to hear their voices below in the hall and glad that they had arrived first. She liked them both and was grateful there would be more company but was still worried about the fact that Bella hadn't returned from work and both Edward and Rose seemed determined to cling to her and had no intentions of going to sleep.

William had sought refuge from his brother and sister in his bedroom. Molly had looked in on him a few minutes ago and he was happily sprawled on his bed lost in _The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe._ Charles had brought the book back for him when he had been in Cirencester yesterday and William, always an avid reader, was devouring it. He had barely acknowledged Molly's enquiry as to whether he was alright and she smiled to herself and pulled the door to before returning to the problem of Edward and Rose and what to do now that visitors had arrived.

When she heard the sound of another car arriving and the crunch of the gravel as it came to an abrupt halt at the front door she realised that she had no choice but to take the twins downstairs with her and go and greet her visitors. Grasping each of the children firmly by the hand she was about to leave the bedroom when Edward began to resist and started to wail. She looked down at him. His face was red with annoyance and he was straining to reach something that was half under the bed. The wail was turning into a screech. She heard him utter, "Blankie" and realised why he was upset. He could see the small square of baby blanket that he used as his comforter and he had no intention of leaving the room without it. Reluctantly, Molly bent down and picked it up. The blanket square was in a sorry state, almost grey in colour from so many washes, bobbled from being handled constantly and soggy from too much time spent in Edward's mouth. Molly also suspected that it was covered in plenty of snot as Edward was the type of child that always seemed to have a runny nose.

"Oh Eddie, this isn't very nice. Let's just leave it here until you go to bed." She tried to put it on the bed and walk away but the screech from Edward was piercing and at that moment she heard the front door open. She grabbed 'Blankie' and passed it to the little boy who became quiet in an instant, grasping the material and transferring one corner to his mouth. Rose stared up at her mother and Molly smiled at her although her heart was thumping with nerves.

As she walked along the landing she could hear Charles greeting his visitors and recognised the sound of Lady Wilton's voice as she said, "How do you do." A moment later she heard Richard and Kate speaking as well and realised they had all gone into the lounge.

"Well, here we go you two. Wish me luck."

They descended the staircase with some difficulty. Molly clasped the hands of both children, trying to keep a tight hold, which entailed having to touch the disgusting 'Blankie' that Edward insisted on trailing behind him, as well as keep her footing on the uneven stairs. At the door of the lounge she took one more breath and then nudged it open with her foot.

Five pairs of eyes turned upon her, surprised by her entrance and the fact that she was accompanied by two unexpected guests. Even Charles appeared surprised and for a few seconds no one spoke. Then the silence was broken.

"Children at a drinks party," Lady Wilton remarked in a dry voice, her eyebrows almost reaching her hairline, "How very modern."

Molly glanced at Charles and saw that he was wide-eyed at the remark and temporarily stumped for a response. Nevertheless, he was about to open his mouth to say something when Kate Murray came to Molly's rescue.

"Molly, how lovely to see you again and to finally meet little Rose and Edward." She crossed the room, giving Molly a reassuring smile and bent down to the toddlers greeting each of them and capturing their attention. Her intervention allowed Molly the opportunity to move towards the rest of the party where she was introduced to Sir Percival. Having heard him described as being arrogant, interfering and generally disliked, Molly was surprised to see an unremarkable man, balding, in his late fifties of average height and build and to her surprise shorter than his wife. He gave her a pleasant smile as he shook her by the hand and remarked that Edward appeared to be a "fine fellow" and Rose was "charming". As he spoke Molly sensed that Lady Wilton was fixing her eye upon her husband and that there was a hint of annoyance in her air

As Molly turned towards Lady Wilton she fought hard to maintain her confident demeanour and forced herself to speak slowly whilst cursing herself for her hypocrisy, "How nice to see you again, Lady Wilton."

Lady Wilton gave her a long look, clearly weighing up the situation and remembering their last encounter. Molly thought that she didn't look any more pleased about being invited here than Molly was to see her standing in her own lounge, however, in company, particularly amongst people she didn't know, she played along, "It's very kind of you to invite us, Mrs James." She didn't look as though she meant it but social convention won out.

Charles busied himself making drinks for everyone, the guests settled down and Rose and Edward appeared to have found something fascinating to play with just out of Molly's sight to one side of the sofa. They were chattering to each other in a way Molly couldn't decipher but were making happy noises and she hoped they would keep themselves occupied until Bella returned which she hoped would be at any moment.

Molly rose from her seat and handed around canapés that she had painstakingly made following instructions in an old-fashioned recipe book she had found in the library. Unfortunately, it hadn't proved possible to find all the ingredients mentioned and once or twice she had been forced to improvise. Not being able to obtain smoked salmon she had worried for a whole day about whether to make use of a tin of salmon in the larder and as time had run short had eventually given in and placed seasoned tinned salmon on toast squares rather than crackers and topped them with a little sprig of thyme. The overall effect was quite attractive but the aroma of tinned fish was very strong in the room and she saw Lady Wilton's eyes go out on stalks at the sight of them as Molly offered her the plate. As much as she disliked the woman, Molly felt her toes starting to curl with embarrassment. Kate, in her early thirties, the mother of two young boys and of the sensible, no-nonsense school of thought on most issues, politely sampled the offering, munched with enthusiasm and complimented Molly. However, the toast squares on which she had presented the salmon had, after standing on the plate for over an hour, gone soggy and before Lady Wilton could place a morsel in her mouth it had collapsed and fallen into her lap. She glared at Molly and Molly rushed to the kitchen to fetch a cloth. When she returned Lady Wilton almost snatched it from her.

"I should think it will leave a stain." She said not attempting to hide her annoyance. Molly glanced at the blue silk dress she was wearing and saw the grease mark forming in her lap.

"It will need to be sent to London for cleaning," Lady Wilton complained and her husband overhearing her remarked looked up and said in a dismissive tone, "Don't fuss about it, Elizabeth. It's only a dress."

Molly saw Lady Wilton cast her husband a withering look but she was too well-bred to announce to all assembled that it was a finest silk, Dior dress chosen especially for this occasion. Kate tried to smooth things over, "I'm sure that it will be good as new after a wash, Lady Wilton. It's a lovely dress."

Lady Wilton appeared to appreciate the compliment but she couldn't help gazing down at the stain, sighing and continuing to look annoyed. Kate attempted to introduce other subjects of conversation and to talk as much as possible to lighten the atmosphere but it was obvious that Lady Wilton had no pleasure in being here and only contributed when there was an opportunity to give her opinion. On learning that William was eight years old and still attending the village school, she remarked that state education was 'intolerable' and she was surprised that Charles hadn't sent him to a decent Prep school in Cirencester. Molly's view that he was still only a little boy and his friends lived in the village was met with the opinion that he would be better served by making friends with the 'right kind of children'. She had followed this with the throw away remark that, "Not all parents are able to appreciate these matters." Kate flashed Molly a warning look and she bit back the response that was forming, remembering Charles entreaty and said nothing even though she was incensed by hearing this kind of snobbery.

Across the room, Molly could hear Charles and Richard talking to Sir Percival. The conversation sounded amicable and had covered many general subjects including the countryside, local politics and business. The latter topic seemed to lead Sir Percival onto the subject of the airfield. "Those aeroplanes have a dashed annoying habit of startling my horses. I've a particular young Hunter who's scared stiff of the blasted things." She heard Charles sympathise and then explain that they tended to operate a fairly routine schedule and he'd be happy to let Sir Percival know the quietest times if it would make his rides less stressful. Sir Percival nodded, "It's decent of you, James but the problem is that the damn airfield should never have been put there in the first place. That land belonged to my family for three hundred years before the Air Ministry requisitioned it and it should have been returned to us when the war ended but for reasons that no one can understand it was leased to you."

Molly could see the cogs in Charles' mind turning. They had always considered themselves extraordinarily fortunate to have discovered the airfield at Nethercombe Heath and to have been able to take over the lease from the Air Ministry. In fact, Molly now remembered that it had been mentioned to Charles by a former RAF colleague at a Squadron reunion dinner. He had told Charles that he was working in Whitehall and was now a boring, pen-pushing, 'Desk Johnnie'. Charles glanced in Molly's direction and as their eyes met they knew they were both thinking the same thing; chance had played little part in their arrival here in Nethercombe. They had been selected, presented with opportunities and when the time was right and the powers that be were satisfied that they could be trusted they had been allowed into the little secret. Molly looked over at Richard. He had adopted an expression of studied neutrality and it was enough to convince Molly that they were right.

"Parts of that land are of particular significance to my family." Sir Percival was continuing, "and I won't be happy until that airfield is closed. I'm sorry, James, you seem like a decent chap, but it simply shouldn't be there."

Molly saw Charles take a deep breath and glance at Richard before saying, "I'm afraid, it's not likely to be closing any time soon. In fact, I'm about to submit an application to extend and build a concrete runway as I'm intending to expand business there."

The room fell silent. Everyone had heard Charles' words. It was clear, however, that the only people shocked by it were Sir Percival and Lady Wilton. Sir Percival's mouth fell open as he processed the information and Lady Wilton seemed equally lost for words. When he finally gathered his thoughts Sir Percival said, "So, what was the purpose of inviting me here? Did you think you'd butter me up with a few drinks and get round me as I'm probably just some old buffer?" His face was turning red, "Well you've got another think coming if that's your approach. I can assure you, you've got a fight on your hands." He shook his head and rose from his seat, "Elizabeth, I think it's time we left. There is nothing more to discuss." He turned to Molly and remembering his manners as a gentleman, nodded and said, "Thank you Mrs James for your hospitality. I regret, however, that we must leave."

Lady Wilton had been listening with close attention to the discussion and the outrage on her face mirrored her husband's. She reached over to scoop her handbag up from the floor and clicked it shut as she did so in a noisy and final gesture of defiance. She rose from her seat and turning to Molly said, "Your remarks to me on Tuesday regarding the airfield were not only impolite but entirely disingenuous." Without another word she followed her husband out into the hall and they heard the front door opening.

The remaining occupants of the room stared at each other in silence until Molly said in bewilderment, "I don't know what disingenuous means." No one seemed to notice her comment and then Charles, suddenly galvanized into action, said, "I'll talk to them," and followed the Wilton's out into the hall.

Molly realised that she had been so caught up by the conversation that she had forgotten about Edward and Rose who were still sitting on the floor in the lounge and looked around for them. Edward had toddled over to Kate who was making a fuss of him and finding Rose behind the sofa Molly knelt down to scoop her up into her arms. As she did so she noticed that the fingers of both Rose's hands were bright red, but it wasn't blood. Looking at the floor she saw that there were also red marks on the carpet. A trail of red marks led from the edge of the sofa to the place where the twins had been sitting. She scanned around her but could see nothing to account for the marks. As she walked out to the front door with Rose in her arms she rubbed her hand across Rose's hand and the red substance transferred to her fingers. It felt oily and she when she sniffed it she recognised the smell.

"What have you two been doing?" she asked in astonishment. She was puzzled and couldn't think how it could have happened.

Kate, carrying Edward, followed Molly into the hall. He was whining and seemed upset, so much so that she swapped children with Molly and took Rose back into the lounge. Molly tried to placate Edward, but to no avail. Charles came back through the front door shaking his head, "They won't come back in. I've tried to persuade them but Sir Percival's adamant." It was clear that Charles was distracted by the way the party had just ended, too distracted to pay much attention to the increasing volume of the wails from Edward. The little boy was very unhappy about something and couldn't understand why no one seemed to be bothered.

Molly glanced through the open front door. Sir Percival and Lady Wilton were standing outside, their backs as straight as ramrods, staring resolutely ahead, determined not to engage in any further conversation. However, they were stranded; their car was nowhere to be seen.

X-X-X-X

Robert Stimpson had kept Bella chatting and she was now very late. She should have been home an hour ago but they had been nowhere near finished with stocktaking and she had been promising to help with the job for weeks. They had been busy all afternoon and the task had taken even longer due to Robert's constant pauses to reminisce or tell Bella a funny story from yesteryear, not to mention the many cups of tea that had been required. It was a pity he had chosen Friday afternoon to finally start the job. Bella normally left a little earlier on Fridays and she knew that Molly and Charles had visitors tonight and wanted her help with the children.

"You can't believe how much fun our Tom had riding that tin tray down the hill over on the Statham's farm back in the winter of nineteen forty seven and by god, did we have some snow back then."

He paused to drink some tea and placing the cup onto the counter looked over at Bella and said, "I don't suppose it was quite the same down in London."

Bella briefly thought back to the harsh, freezing winter of nineteen forty seven and remarked, "It was pretty bad. Though at least we got a fair few days off school. Every cloud an' all that."

"Didn't you like school, pet?" Bella like the way he called her _pet_ in his Geordie accent. He and Marjorie treated her like a daughter and with such warmth and kindness that she felt as if she were part of their family. Since Tom had left to do his National Service they seemed even closer to her.

Bella smiled, "Well the Dawes family aren't exactly known for winning anything at the annual prize giving, so that might give you some idea of how much we all liked school."

Robert sighed, "I always thought our Tom might do well. He always enjoyed his books and learning but it doesn't look like he's going to be doing any studies now."

Bella shrugged, "Well, he'll be alright won't he. He's got it ready made here, working with you."

Robert smiled, "Aye, you're right there. When our Tom gets back there's a job ready and waiting for him. He's one of the lucky ones."

Bella glanced at the clock on the wall and began to feel guilty. It was far later than she had intended and she was conscious of letting Molly and Charles down. Robert must have seen the concerned look on her face as he remarked, "Is there somewhere you need to be, Bella?"

Bella gave him an apologetic look, "Yes, Molly'll have my guts for garters I was supposed to be back an hour ago. I'm sorry, Mr Stimpson but I'll have to go."

She unbuttoned her overall and threw it across the counter.

"You should have said." Robert called, "I don't mind. Off you go then, pet."

"See you tomorrow," Bella waved and hurried out into the yard at the rear of the shop. Her bicycle was there propped against the wall. It was really the shop's bicycle and bore the name _Stimpson's_ _General Stores_ with a large wicker basket attached to the front handlebars. It had been raining this afternoon and the saddle was wet. She wiped it with the sleeve of her coat and mounting it rode out of the yard, along the alleyway between the shop and the Stimpson's cottage next door and onto the road in front of the Green. She turned her head to the left and caught sight of Robert in the shop still leaning on the counter drinking his tea. He waved at her as she passed him and she rang the bell in response.

The ride to Greystones was mostly uphill and Bella had to pedal hard on the steeper parts but once she reached the road which wound around the side of the valley it levelled out although in one or two places it was quite twisty and narrow. There were a lot of puddles in the road and more than once she took her feet off the pedals and lifted her legs up high to avoid the splashes, whooping as she raced through them.

She was about a quarter of a mile from Greystones when she heard the sound of a car approaching from behind. The noise quickly increased in volume and she realised that it must be travelling at speed and would soon catch up with her. She glanced behind her but she had just turned a bend in the road and couldn't see it. It was particularly narrow here with high hedges either side. She slowed down anticipating that the car would turn the bend and see her at any moment. Suddenly it was right behind her. The driver, spotting her at the last moment, swerved around her without losing any speed. She could see that it was a large, expensive looking car and she caught a quick glimpse of the driver at the wheel as he passed. He was young, dark-haired and concentrating intently on the road and moving ahead of her as swiftly as possible. However, he misjudged the width of the road and she felt the rear of the car clip her leg as it passed. It was only the smallest of contacts but enough to unsteady her and as the car turned out of sight around the next corner she felt herself wobble, lose control and slip sideways across the gravel and into the ditch below the hedge on the left hand side. Her knee made contact with the road and she felt pain as it scraped along the rough surface before she tumbled sideways into the hedge and a few inches of cold damp water began to seep into the sleeve of her coat.

She was startled by the fall. It had all happened so quickly and she took a couple of deep breaths before attempting to get up. She raised herself out of the wet, muddy ditch but her knee was hurting and when she looked down she saw that her stockings were torn and blood was running down her leg from a cut on her knee. She reached into her coat pocket and found a handkerchief which she wound around it to stem the flow of blood. Then she felt a dull ache in her elbow and realised she had banged that too. However, a quick appraisal of the situation revealed that apart from the cut knee, bruised elbow and the muddy, wet coat she was otherwise unhurt and the bicycle appeared to be undamaged.

She hauled it out of the ditch and feeling a little unsteady on her feet decided to push it the rest of the way along the road to Greystones. Her knee was aching and slowed her down but she was glad of the bicycle to lean on. She was about twenty yards from the entrance to Greystones when she saw the same large car that had clipped her a few minutes earlier emerge from the gateway with the same dark-haired driver at the wheel. This time she had enough leisure to recognise it was a Daimler. She'd seen one once before up at the airfield and Charles had said it belonged to one of his wealthy pupils. This time a man and woman were sitting in the back. The driver gave such a cursory glance to his right that he couldn't have even noticed her approaching. With a roar of acceleration he turned left and sped off down the road in the direction of Cookham.

Bella had reached the end of the driveway and as she turned in she saw Molly and Charles standing near the front door. Charles was wearing a suit and Molly was dressed up to the nines but holding a wailing Edward in her arms and staring towards the gateway. As Bella approached wheeling her bicycle Charles took Edward from Molly and disappeared into the house. Bella drew nearer waiting for Molly to quiz her about why she was late but to her surprise, she said nothing more than, "Hello, Bella."

"Hello," Bella replied, wary of the puzzled look on Molly's face, "Who was that leaving just now?"

Molly gazed at her sister, taking in for the first time the blood soaked handkerchief around her knee, torn stockings, wet, muddy coat and her generally dishevelled appearance and said, "Are you alright?"

In spite of the enquiry Bella couldn't help thinking that Molly's mind was still elsewhere, concentrating on something else.

"Sort of alright," Bella replied thinking that Molly didn't seem very bothered about her. However, she repeated her question, "Who's just left here in that big car?" She pointed towards the gateway as if trying to emphasise her point.

"It was Sir Percival and Lady Wilton," Charles replied emerging from the house this time without Edward.

Bella pursed her lips in annoyance, "Well, their bleeding chauffeur's just knocked me off my bike."

On hearing this, Charles was full of concern, rushed forward to take the bicycle from her and prop it against the wall before holding out his arm to her and saying, "Come inside and sit down. Lean on me. I'll get you a brandy. It must have been a bit of shock for you." Bella took his arm, feeling a twinge in her knee again and winced slightly as she started to move.

"I'd like to give that driver a bit of shock, behaving like he's on a race track round here."

Molly turned towards Charles and Bella her eyes wide as if she had just realised something, hands clasping each side of her face in alarm, "I think Lady Wilton's the one heading for an unpleasant shock when she gets home."

Charles stared at her, "What do you mean, she'll get an unpleasant shock?"

The look of alarm on Molly's face gave way to a giggle and then unable to contain herself any longer she blurted out through her laughter, "She left her bag open when she was in the lounge. Rose has used her lipstick all over the carpet and Eddie's given her his horrible 'Blankie' but she doesn't know it yet."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

As Bella entered the Village Hall on Saturday evening she wondered for the third time since setting off, why she had allowed herself to be persuaded by Marjorie to attend the Nethercombe Young Farmers Dance. Not only was she still limping slightly after the fall from her bicycle yesterday but she was alone. She had been to the dances a couple of times since moving to the village but on those occasions she had been accompanied by Tom, once soon after she had arrived and another time when he was on leave. At those dances he had stayed close by her side all evening, danced most of the dances with her and introduced her to a few of the local young people, most of whom were the sons or daughters of local farmers. However, she didn't really feel that she knew any of them well enough to carry on attending the dances once Tom had returned to the army.

"Oh, go on, love," Marjorie urged her that morning, "Our Tom always reckons they're a good crowd and you don't go out much when he's away. He wouldn't want you to be stuck at home all the time just because he's not here."

Bella thought wryly to herself that, if his letters were anything to go by, Tom certainly didn't seem to worry about staying in when she wasn't with him. She hadn't heard from him for over three weeks and, although she was trying to fight the feeling, she was beginning to grow annoyed with him and his poor attendance to letter writing. What was more, as much as she loved Molly, Charles and the children she did sometimes long for company of her own age. She knew quite a few of the young people in the village by sight or from their visits to the shop but she hadn't really made friends with any of them. When Penny Statham, the daughter of Frank Statham who owned the largest dairy herd in the area, had come into the shop this morning Marjorie had seized on the chance to suggest the Dance again to Bella.

"You'll be going to the Dance tonight won't you Penny?" Marjorie had called across the shop in a bright and cheerful voice aimed to attract Bella's attention. Penny, a plump, pleasant-looking rather than pretty girl who made up for what she lacked in looks with a friendly, down-to-earth manner, turned towards Marjorie with a broad smile which animated her expression.

"Oh yes, Mrs Stimpson and my brother, Tony. We always go to the dances they're great fun."

Marjorie looked across at Bella and nodded. Bella clearly understood its meaning, "You'll probably see Bella there, then," Molly advised Penny.

Penny turned around to regard Bella behind the counter, dressed in her white shop overalls, half-way up a step ladder and engaged in stacking some shelves. The surprise in Penny's face was evident to Bella.

"That'll be nice," Penny remarked. "I'll look out for you, Bella."

She finished putting her purchases into her basket and with a final nod in Bella's direction she turned and left the shop. The ring of the bell had barely died away before Marjorie called over with a degree of excitement that Bella felt the occasion hardly merited, "There you go, then, Bella. That's one person you'll know and I daresay there'll be others." Marjorie fixed her with an encouraging smile and Bella, realising she had exhausted her supply of excuses, sighed aloud and resigned herself to attending if only to prevent the necessity of inventing more excuses for not having gone to the dance when she came into work on Monday.

Entering the hall this evening after hanging her coat on a peg in the Ladies Cloakroom, Bella gazed down at her dress. It was a new purchase from her latest trip to Cirencester, scarlet red with a full skirt that flared out when she spun around. _Striking_ was the word the sales assistant had used when Bella had purchased the dress last week. Looking at herself in the mirror a moment ago before venturing into the hall, Bella had wondered whether it was a little too striking for a village dance. It complemented her long dark hair and she had applied her make-up carefully not wanting to make too overpowering an impression. Nevertheless, her nerves had almost failed her as she approached the door into the main hall.

She could hear the band inside playing their version of a quick step and wondered if she would find herself awkwardly hovering near the dance floor, wanting to find some company to chat with and pass the time but dreading the approach of two or three of the local lads whom she knew a little. They sometimes came into the shop and spent rather too much time staring at her when they thought she wasn't looking in their direction. She really didn't want to take a turn around the dance floor with any of them but knew it would be awkward to politely refuse them if she didn't want to cause any offence. She took a deep breath, steeled herself to deal with the requests that might come her way and pushed open the door.

The four piece band on the stage was playing _How High the Moon_ and a dozen or so couples were doing their best to dance to the lively tune with varying degrees of skill. Although the band couldn't compare with the likes of the Joe Loss band that played on the wireless, Bella decided it was a passable impression and began to tap her toes and unconsciously sway to the tune. However, feeling self-conscious when the music ended, she spotted a makeshift bar operating at the rear of the hall from some trestle tables and was wondering whether to get a drink, when she observed a tall dark-haired young man standing near the stage with another slightly shorter fair-haired man of similar age. They were talking animatedly on some subject and the dark-haired man laughed, throwing back his head as he did so. As he recovered his composure he turned his head in her direction and she got a better look at his handsome features. In the same moment that he noticed her she recognised with a start the young man in the Daimler who had driven past her with so little care and caused her to fall off her bicycle. Seeing her staring at him he had the nerve to raise an eyebrow and wink at her and look as though he was thinking of making his way in her direction. Remembering the laddered stockings, her cut knee which was still bandaged under her skirt and her bruised elbow not to mention the muddy water in the ditch, Bella felt a wave of annoyance spread over her and without pausing to think about the matter she strode off towards the man with every intention of calling him to account.

The young man watched her walking in his direction almost incredulous at his good fortune in seeing the object of his interest approaching him and a broad smile spread across his face at the sight of such a pretty young woman clearly making a beeline for him.

As soon as Bella was within four feet of the man she launched into her complaint,

"You want to watch where you're going driving that great hulk of a car about county lanes like a madman"

She saw him start in surprise at the sight of her green eyes fixed upon him and filled with fury but he didn't stop smiling which made her feel even more annoyed.

"It's not funny. You made me fall off my bicycle yesterday."

At this information his expression changed and he made a slight bow of his head saying in a low voice, "Please forgive me. I had no idea that _you_ were the cyclist and I certainly didn't know that you fell off your bicycle or I would definitely have slowed down."

Bella looked at him closely to see if he was serious and decided that he was still being facetious and trying to flirt with her.

"Well you ought to watch it," she continued, determined not to be put off her subject, "especially as it's not even your car. What would your employer say if they knew you drove about like that?"

This time he laughed out loud and his companion stepping forward to join them laughed as well, much to Bella's embarrassment.

"Well, we'll see what Sir Percival Wilton has to say about it as you seem to find it so funny," she retorted.

The fair-haired man spoke now addressing his remarks to the dark-haired young man, "Tell me Peter what would Sir Percival say about it?" Bella noticed the smirk on his face as he spoke and also his voice. He was very well spoken and certainly not a local lad. The dark haired young man finally stopped laughing and addressed himself to her,

"Well, Miss?"

"Dawes," Bella supplied.

"Miss Dawes," he continued, "I do believe that Sir Percival would say something like," he pulled a face as if considering this point in more depth, "be a bit more careful, son, next time you borrow the car."

The penny dropped. Peter Wilton regarded her with a look of haughty arrogance which seemed to be saying, _reply to that if you dare._ In that same moment his eyes met hers and she knew from his unwavering, penetrating stare that he was attracted to her. She wanted to say something to wipe that look off his face because it both irritated and made her uncomfortable but she had been wrong-footed by him and knew that any reply would just seem weak by comparison. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and turned to go but Peter called to her,

"Would you care to dance?" Bella, staggered by the suggestion, hesitated long enough for him to continue, "You're not with anyone are you? I thought I saw you arrive on your own."

So he'd definitely been watching her. Bella wanted to tell him to mind his own business but before she could find the words he had reached for her arm and started guiding her towards the dance floor. She was conscious of other people casting looks in their direction and didn't want to attract any gossip by making a spectacle of herself, so she silently acquiesced even though she was annoyed that he would think he had charmed her into dancing with him.

She soon discovered that he was an excellent dancer as he propelled her around the floor with consummate ease scarcely noticing the other couples around them. She assumed it was a necessary skill for a young man from a good family who probably spent a lot of time engaged in social activities with similarly well-brought up young ladies. She was determined to say as little as possible and intended to move as far away as possible the moment the music ended and he released her.

As they moved around the floor Peter gazed down at her and enquired, "So, Miss Dawes, how do you happen to be in the area, I would hazard a guess that you're not Nethercombe born and bred?"

Bella didn't look up as she replied, "I'm living with my sister and brother-in-law at Greystones." Had she been more interested in her partner she would have seen both his eyebrows rise in astonishment at the news, although his response drew her immediate attention,

"Oh, so you're related to Biggles and Amy Johnson then."

Bella pushed away from him and looking him full in the face retorted, "How dare you speak about Charles and Molly like that, you don't even know them. He did three tours in bombers during the war risking his life so that people like you could live in peace and freedom and my sister served in the WAAF as well and worked her socks off to get her pilot's licence which is more than most of the likes of you have ever done."

There was a moment's silence before Peter said, "I'm sorry and I apologise for the offence I've just caused." Bella stared at him but could detect no hint of sarcasm in his expression. Nevertheless, she had no desire to resume dancing and at that moment the music ended and the rest of the dancers stopped to applaud.

Without another word, Bella turned and walked off the dance floor wondering where to go to get away from such annoying company and not wanting to end up spending most of the evening in the Ladies cloakroom avoiding him. As she reached the door leading out into the corridor she ran into Penny Statham coming the other way and looking quite pretty in a pale blue frock with her hair tied back and away from her face and falling in soft waves to her shoulders. She smiled in genuine pleasure at seeing Bella and to her relief asked her to come across and sit with her party at the table they were occupying on the opposite side of the room.

As Bella approached with Penny she saw a couple of young men whom she thought she recognised from events in the village over the last year. They both rose from their seats in an awkward but polite manner and were introduced as Penny's brother, Tony, and her cousin Frank. Tony, the Statham's eldest son and of solid farming stock, was a well-built, fair-haired young man with a ruddy complexion which deepened further still by the blushing way in which he greeted Bella as she was introduced. Frank, younger and more confident in his manner, shook her by the hand and pulled out a chair for her to sit down before offering to fetch her a drink.

Bella was relieved to be in company but soon grew bored with the conversation which was chiefly concerned with life on the Statham's Dairy farm where both Tony and Frank worked and predictions as to the fortunes of Nethercombe Cricket Club next season, for which they both played. Although Bella loved life in the countryside, something that had amazed Tom when he had first met her, she found discussions on how to improve the weekly milk yield less than inspiring and never having understood the game of cricket, coupled with being from a family of firm West Ham supporters, she found there was little she could contribute and sat in silence trying to smile at appropriate moments and not appear too disinterested.

Occasionally, out of the corner of her eye, Bella caught sight of Peter Wilton and his friend, either lounging around near the band smoking, or taking a turn around the dance floor with one or other of the young ladies in the room. They certainly didn't seem to have any difficulty in persuading anyone else to dance. On one occasion as he was passing, Peter even caught her eye again and repeated that annoying wink which she resolutely ignored.

Although she hadn't planned on dancing, she was glad to escape the farming conversation when Frank, hearing the band starting up a languid version of the Tennessee Waltz, asked Bella to dance. However, she was not particularly enamoured to discover that Frank was a very hesitant dancer and he had invited her to dance because the waltz was in fact the only step he knew. After a very long few minutes during which Frank seemed to be counting under his breath and was too occupied by trying to avoid standing on her toes to conduct any conversation, Bella was glad to find herself promptly steered off the floor at the end of the number and for Frank to suggest fetching another drink. She watched him wander away to the trestle tables and turned back to look at the dance floor thinking how much better it would have been if she had just given the whole event a miss as she had intended as it was not turning out to be much fun.

"I hope you're saving a dance for me?" a voice whispered in Bella's ear.

Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of a familiar and much-missed voice. She swung around, full of astonishment, as she took in the very welcome and unexpected sight of Tom Stimpson standing behind her. The warmth of his smile as he regarded her only enhanced his familiar, handsome features now even more defined by his growing maturity and experience. The surprise on her face was exactly what he had hoped for and when she flung her arms around him crying, "What are you doing here?" he started to laugh.

"I've got ten days leave. I'll be here for Easter." It was much better than she could have expected.

"Why didn't you let me know?"

He hugged her and replied, "I wanted to surprise you."

Bella stepped back a little way, "Hang on, your mother knew about this didn't she? That's why she kept urging me to come to the dance." She shook her head as realisation dawned.

"Well, she might have been a little involved," he conceded. "She had an idea it would be romantic." He looked slightly sheepish at this but Bella didn't mind.

"She was right," she smiled up at him, "it is romantic."

Bella took a step back and looked at Tom. He had grown taller and broader or maybe it was just the army uniform he was wearing or the way that he stood now with a military bearing. He was almost twenty and she could see signs of the man emerging from the shadow of the youth who had left all those months ago. His fair hair was cropped very short only accentuating his features which had become more defined, his jaw more chiselled but the cornflower blue eyes looked at her with the same degree of tenderness that had always been there.

"I've missed you, Bella," he said and leaning towards her, kissed her gently on the lips. Bella was strangely touched but also a little embarrassed. He had obviously grown more confident about displaying his affection in public which was another sign of a young man maturing, she supposed. She glanced around her to see if anyone had noticed and caught sight of Peter Wilton watching them with a serious look on his face. She remembered her previous annoyance with him and grasping Tom by the hand said, "Well, if you missed me then come and dance with me." She led him onto the floor and he pulled her close to him as they started to dance to a slow foxtrot **.**

They left the Village Hall at eleven o'clock when the dance ended having danced slowly around the floor to the last waltz. Tom had held her close to him and she had rested her head on his shoulder feeling the rough fabric of his tunic against her cheek. When the music finally ended Bella wandered away to fetch her coat from the Ladies cloakroom and as she was returning to find Tom she ran straight into Peter Wilton on his way out accompanied by his fair-haired friend. She tried to step to out of his way but he stepped back in front of her.

"So, you weren't really on your own here tonight, by the looks of it," he said.

Bella drew herself up to her full height of five feet three inches and looking him square in the face replied, "No, as you can see."

Peter shrugged and to her surprise gave her a rueful smile, "Should've known a girl like you couldn't possibly be alone." For a moment she thought she saw a genuine look of regret on his face before he ruined it adding, "Still, if you're ever at a loose end, maybe when young Tom's leave has ended, you know where I am."

Bella stared at him, staggered by his nerve and irritated by the patronising reference to 'young Tom' particularly as Peter Wilton was scarcely any older.

"Wild horses couldn't drag me in your direction."

She stepped around Peter and was glad to see Tom approaching her. She smiled at him thinking how lovely being alone with him on the walk home would be and as they were passing Peter and his friend Tom put his arm around her. She didn't see the way Peter followed her with his eyes until she had left the building or hear his friend say, "You're on a hiding to nothing there." Peter feigned a nonchalant air and replied, "Plenty more fish in the sea, Max," adding under his breath and out of earshot, "But only one I'd like to catch."

In spite of the cold wind, Tom and Bella walked slowly all the way back to Greystones with Bella snuggled against Tom, his strong arm encircling her waist. Bella had been expecting Charles to be outside the Village Hall to pick her up and drive her back home as they had arranged earlier in the evening, but Tom explained that as soon as he had arrived home late that afternoon, Marjorie had called Molly to let her know that she wouldn't need a lift home.

"So my sister was in on it as well, then," Bella said with a hint of mild exasperation.

"She didn't know I was on leave until Mum called her. I only told Mum a couple of days ago and then she got the idea about surprising you at the dance and I went along with it."

"Do you always do what your Mum says?" Bella teased.

Tom laughed as if remembering a few things that would be safer kept to himself, "Let's just say I do what she says when she's right."

"And when she's wrong?"

Tom stopped and turned towards her. She couldn't see the look on his face but she was sure he was smirking, "I do what I want." He pulled her close to him, bent his head and kissed her, feeling her reaching up to him, pulling him closer still, her lips parting in response to him. His hands slid inside her coat feeling the warmth of her body through the thin fabric of her dress. Lost in the embrace he couldn't help himself and his hands started to stray upwards moving away from Bella's waist exploring the generous curves of her body. As his thumb gently brushed the side of her breast he felt her move away from his touch and then break apart.

"Steady on, Tom," she sounded a bit embarrassed and he kicked himself for getting a little bit carried away.

"I'm sorry Bella, I …."

She reached up and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, "Don't be daft. It's just that I haven't seen you for months." She wrapped her coat around her again, and linked her arm through his, "Come on, it's cold let's walk a bit."

They walked on with more speed and as they walked Bella wondered why she had needed to move away from him just now. There had been something about the way he was holding her and kissing her that felt different from before; he was different. She supposed that he had been growing up while he was away and that the tentative young lad, who had kissed her so diffidently that first time down by the river at Nethercombe Rowing Club, was turning into a man. In the darkness a smile slowly spread across her face. Being held in his arms and kissed by him had felt strange but it was good too and she knew that she wanted him to kiss her again.

They reached Greystones. As Bella was about to turn into the drive, Tom reached out and grasping her hand pulled her back towards him. Despite the darkness, he was sure she was smiling at him expecting him to kiss her again. He felt her move closer to him and her arms reaching up, touching the hair at the back of his neck just above his collar. He sighed and wrapped his arms around her, wanting to feel her close to him but he also wanted to talk to her. Ever since that moment when she'd asked him if he always did what his mother said, he'd realised that he needed to say something and he paused trying to find the right words. When the kiss Bella was expecting from him didn't follow he felt her stiffen in his arms as she sensed he was holding back.

"Bella," he began, "I've been thinking."

She gave a small nervous laugh, "You don't want to do too much of that. It leads to all kinds of trouble."

There was a short silence before he continued, "I've been thinking about the future when I leave the army and what I'd like to do afterwards." He waited expecting her to comment but all she said was,

"Go, on"

He hesitated, "I don't think I'm going to come back here." This time Bella pulled away from him altogether and he sensed that his words had come as an unwelcome surprise. He wished he could see her face. The silence was worrying him.

When she did speak her voice was tight and quiet, "I see. Where are you going then?"

"I don't know, exactly," Tom replied, "But being in the army has made me realise there's a big world out there and I think I might like to travel a bit."

He heard Bella breathing unsteadily and wondered what she was thinking. He reached out to her, trying to find her hand in darkness feeling he should say something reassuring, "I expect I'll come back later on."

When the blow hit him across the chest he was stunned. It was more of a slap or gesture of annoyance than a serious intention to hurt him, but he knew immediately that Bella was angry.

"What's the matter?" He said, guessing he was about to receive a full volley as a response.

"You _expect_ you'll come back?" she almost spat at him, "Well don't make the mistake of _expecting_ me to be here when you do." He heard the sarcasm in her voice and he searched for something to say,

"I never expected you to wait around for me and there's been nothing stopping you going anywhere you wanted for the past eighteen months, unlike me."

The silence that descended after this comment was worse than the previous one. When Bella spoke he realised how foolish his words sounded.

"Happen you're right, Tom Stimpson. I've been waiting here long enough while you seem to be having a very good time with your mates."

He heard the crunch of the gravel under her feet as she started to walk away from him.

"Bella, I haven't made any plans. I'm just thinking about it and I wanted to tell you."

"Thanks very much," he heard her voice call in a sarcastic tone from further away, "You've told me now, so sod off."

He was surprised to hear her swear. He didn't doubt she knew plenty of swear words, possibly more than him, but she didn't usually succumb to their use and he realised she was very hurt and was covering it up as best she could. He wondered whether to go after her but guessed she wasn't going to listen to anything tonight. She was feisty and independent, strong-willed and unlikely to be talked round in half a minute or placated by a passionate kiss and how much he now wished he had simply kissed her just now. If he tried that approach whilst she was in this mood he was likely to end up with a slap around the face. He sighed aloud. He knew her too well; better call it a night.

"Goodnight Bella." He called into the darkness. There was no reply but he heard the front door of Greystones slam shut and knew Bella had announced her return to all within.

He turned on his heel, thrust his hands deep into pockets against the chill that had descended and began to walk down the lane back to the village. He had been thinking about this for some time now and waiting to come home on leave so that he could talk it over with Bella. He valued her good sense and had thought she would help him get his plans together; he had been naïve.

Being away from home had widened his horizons beyond the narrow world of Nethercombe. He had learned to take care of himself and gained some independence, made new friends and begun to see possibilities beyond just staying around here and running the local village shop for the rest of his life. He hadn't felt able to talk to his parents about his plans, fearing they wouldn't understand with them being so caught up by the idea of him returning to run the family business with them until they retired. That was why he had been longing to talk to Bella. After all, she'd left home more than once as an evacuee and again to move here with Molly and Charles. He had thought that if anyone would understand his need to experience more of the world it would be her. Instead he realised that she had taken the news as a personal rejection and that hadn't been his intention.

His mother's frequent letters, breezily cheerful in tone and full of local news, and anecdotes had made it sound as if Bella was well settled in, almost part of the furniture there in the shop and the village and enjoying life to the full. He knew that Bella cared for him just as he cared for her, more than any other girl he had ever met including those at the dance hall near the barracks that he regularly ran into on Friday nights. When Bella wrote to him she always ended her letters with _All my love_ and put kisses at the bottom but he had assumed that she accepted him being away and the news of his plans wouldn't upset her too much seeing as she was so happy in Nethercombe. He had clearly misunderstood her feelings. _I've waited long enough_ had been her words. It seemed as if she wasn't going to just meekly accept the idea and promise to be here when he returned, if he returned.

Tom sighed again, shivered as a gust of wind tore up the lane, quickened his pace to warm himself and muttered under his breath, "Bloody women."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Miss Parkhurst looked up from the ledger after completing her last entry and adjusted her spectacles, positioning them more securely on the bridge of her nose as she glanced across the office to the desk where Charles was sitting, staring into space. She cleared her throat in the polite manner she was accustomed to using whenever she wished to gain his attention and saw him shake himself from his stupor and focus on her.

"Mr James, I hope you won't mind me saying this but," she paused in an uncharacteristic fashion as if unsure whether she was overstepping the mark, "you don't seem quite yourself today. I trust everything is well."

Charles looked at Miss Parkhurst, surprised by her enquiry. It was unlike her to stray beyond work related matters and all but the briefest of comments relating to the weather. Her demeanour at work was everything that her strait-laced, buttoned up, hair scraped back in a bun, appearance suggested it would be.

He nodded at her, smiling as he did, "Thank you, but apart from some issues relating to the runway expansion, I can assure you that everything is fine. In fact," he gazed up at the clock on the wall seeing that it was almost two o'clock "Molly will be here soon as she's taking Rosa out for a spin." He smiled at the pun as he knew Molly would literally be taking Rosa for a few spins and barrel rolls before the afternoon was out. He saw Miss Parkhurst purse her lips at the mention of Rosa. She didn't hold with giving objects such as aeroplanes names even though Donald MacKenzie, their Chief Mechanic, had tried to convince her that a pilot's relationship with his aeroplane was just as close as a man and woman. At this suggestion Miss Parkhurst had tutted all the more and said, "An aeroplane is a machine. Nothing more, nothing less and you will never convince me otherwise, Mr Mackenzie." Whilst Charles, with all his years of flying experience and the survivor of some hairy moments during the war, was not inclined to agree with Miss Parkhurst, he nevertheless respected the conviction with which she expressed herself and, if he was honest, he envied her faith in her own opinions.

After the disastrous ending to the drinks party on Friday, Charles had been left wondering what his next approach concerning Sir Percival's opposition to his plans should be. Once the Wilton's had left and Bella had returned, cut and bruised after a fall from her bicycle, and was being fussed over by both Molly and Kate Murray, Charles had taken the opportunity to talk privately with Richard in his study.

"Nice work, Charles," Richard remarked commenting on the abrupt ending of the party once Charles had informed Sir Percival about his plans for the airfield. The dryness of his comment made Charles feel uncomfortable.

"Well, what else would you have suggested? He was going to find out very soon anyway. However much the true reason behind this project needs to be obscured, I'm not going be accused of dishonesty about _my_ plans and intentions." He gave Richard a long look, "That's not the way I do things."

Richard shrugged, "We know that, Charles. Why do you think we were keen to involve you in our activities in the first place?"

Charles raised an eyebrow, "Well, if Sir Percival was right about the airfield not being returned to him after the war as it should have been, it appears that it wasn't chance that brought Molly and me here to Nethercombe was it?" He looked Richard in the eye and recognised that he was adopting the same neutral expression he had seen earlier.

"Tell me, Richard, just how far in advance did you mark me out for this job? Sometime before old Jefferson just happened to bump into me at that squadron reunion dinner? I suppose he's one of Gerald's mob."

Richard maintained a diplomatic silence which Charles interpreted as confirmation. "Of course, it all makes sense now," he continued. "Jefferson knew about my plans for a flying school even before I left the RAF and when we met at the squadron dinner he just happened to tell me about some airfield he'd heard of that was up for lease and pointed me in your direction as you were the local solicitor who'd been asked to handle it. Then you just happened to know of a property in the area for sale which lo and behold belonged to Gerald Harker. How am I doing, Richard?"

Richard scratched his chin and said in a mild tone, "Come on, Charles, you haven't done too badly out of this have you?"

"Maybe not,"Charles conceded, "But I feel I've been manipulated. Suppose I hadn't wanted to play ball when you and Gerald came clean about what you wanted me to do?"

"Gerald's an excellent judge of character and don't forget you passed the honesty test when you thought we wanted to buy your silence while we carried on some dodgy dealings." Charles could tell Richard was trying to suppress a smile at the memory. He remembered those few days only too well. He and Molly had been convinced that Gerald Harker was a crook and they were embroiled in some criminal activity from which they would struggle to extricate themselves.

He shook his head, "Even so, Richard, it's a little galling to discover that what you've considered to be the fruits of your labours all this time, has really been part and parcel of somebody else's plan." Charles almost surprised himself with how irritated he now felt about this fact. Until this evening he had still thought that it was a fortunate coincidence that had brought both parties together.

"Don't be so hard on yourself Charles," Richard replied, "As far as normal day to day activities are concerned, the airfield is your own. If it helps, then just think of it as us giving you a helping hand in finding somewhere. We've never tried to tell you how to run your business and we won't, apart from needing your cooperation at certain times and this is one of them."

Charles sighed, "Well right now, Richard, it looks like I'm going to need _your_ help. Just what is it that annoys Sir Percival so much about the land being used as an airfield?"

Sitting in the office at the airfield after lunch he had been pondering just that point when Miss Parkhurst had interrupted his thoughts. Richard had promised to discuss the issue with Gerald Harker as soon as possible but he continued to be adamant that to the outside world it was imperative that the plans were considered by everyone to be Charles' plans. Charles had spent quite a lot of time thinking it over but nothing had occurred to him yet. In fact he'd been sitting at home on Saturday evening ostensibly reading a book but had scarcely taken in a word he had read as his mind was still turning over the events of the day before. Molly had been listening to the wireless and he'd been on the point of asking for her opinion on the subject when his thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Bella and her problems and he was forced to put his own concerns to one side.

Bella appeared to have fallen out with Tom Stimpson almost immediately after he had come home on leave. Charles heard her slam the front door when she returned after the Young Farmers' Dance and then overheard a whispered conversation between Molly and Bella in the hall when Molly had gone out to investigate Bella's noisy arrival. Her initial concern had been the possibility of the noise waking the children but having enquired why Bella was being so inconsiderate the sob from Bella in response had told its own story and Charles had decided to stay well out of the way. He didn't consider himself well-qualified to give romantic advice to a girl of Bella's age. Despite the fact that Molly had only been Bella's age when they had first met, everything had been so different. Time had been against them. Once he had realised that he was in love with her he had known in his heart that if fate would allow it, they would marry and prayed that they would have a future together. The snatches of conversation between Molly and Bella had suggested that young Tom had a different path in mind and he, in contrast, would have the time and leisure to follow that path if he wished. When Molly returned to the lounge five minutes later sighing and shaking her head, Charles discovered that Tom's plans didn't include Bella.

"You can't blame a young man like Tom for wanting to see something of the world," Charles observed, putting down the book he had been reading.

Molly stared at him, "He already is, isn't he?"

Charles hid his amusement at this remark and maintaining a neutral tone said, "I don't think doing National Service at an army base in Kent could be classed as seeing the world, Molly. Did you think you were seeing the world at RAF Milton?"

Molly frowned. Occasional comments like this only served to emphasise the differences in their upbringing and the life each of them had led before they met. Joining the WAAF, leaving home, learning a trade and being posted to an operational bomber station had opened up a whole new world for Molly and changed everything that her future had once seemed to hold.

"It made me see my life differently, Charles." She paused and gazed into his eyes, "Meeting you changed my world. Look at me now."

He reached out to her and she went to him and took his hand in hers. He looked up at her and realised that he must have sounded dismissive of her experiences during the war. He had been doing the job he was trained to do, applying the skills he had learned in peacetime. For young girls like Molly it had been an opportunity to reach out into the unknown and do things that society had never allowed them to do before, including living independent lives away from home. He smiled at her and squeezed her hand, "I suppose RAF Milton was pretty special."

She nodded, "It was to me, but you don't think that's enough for Tom?"

Charles shook his head, "The world has changed, Molly and so it seems has Tom. He wants more. I suppose Bella will just have to accept that."

At this Molly couldn't help scoffing, "Oh, Charles I thought you knew her better than that by now. If you think Bella is going to just let him have his fun and sit about like some wallflower, you're mistaken."

Charles thought of his sister-in-law and whistled under his breath, "You're probably right. Just tell me when it's time to take cover."

Molly shook her head, "From what?"

"The fireworks, Molly."

Charles dragged his attention back to Miss Parkhurst's enquiry and the subject that was bothering him, "Have you always lived in the area Miss Parkhurst?"

Miss Parkhurst seemed surprised but willing to reply, "Yes, Mr James or at least since I was a girl. My parents moved here when I was about ten."

Charles has visions of the young Miss Parkhurst at the turn of the century running around wearing a white smock over her dress, her hair in ribbons and feet encased in stout bouts just like the little girls in old photographs.

"So, you know the families in this area including the Wiltons," he continued.

Miss Parkhurst adopted a patient expression as she explained, "Naturally, we didn't move in the same social circle as the Wiltons as my father was only an accounts clerk at Harlow, Jenkins & Smythe in those days, although he did to rise to the position of Head Clerk before he retired, but most people in this area know of the Wiltons. They've been around here for several hundred years."

"Yes," Charles nodded, "I believe this airfield is built on the Wilton's land and was requisitioned by the Air Ministry."

"I believe that is the case, " Miss Parkhurst agreed, "and it is well known that Sir Percival fought the Air Ministry tooth and nail over the matter when it was first acquired. I believe he threatened to take it to the High Court, but in the end there was nothing he could do."

This certainly sounded like the man Charles had met on Friday and he sat back in his chair for a few seconds, tapping the desk with a pencil as he considered the thought.

"I don't suppose you know why Sir Percival was so angry about the requisition?" Charles raised an enquiring eyebrow in Miss Parkhurst's direction and saw a look cross her face that showed she was wrestling with some piece of information. She leaned forward slightly.

"I'm not one to engage in gossip, Mr James, as I'm sure you will appreciate," Charles nodded to encourage her and she lowered her voice in a conspiratorial manner, "It was rumoured that Sir Percival thought there was something of value on the land, not that anyone had the slightest idea what it could be. Whatever it was, it seems the airfield was built in the wrong place as far as he was concerned." She sat upright again and looked as though she felt she had committed some great indiscretion. Charles wondered if she knew any more than this but looking at her expression which suggested that she wanted to return to her work, he decided not to pursue the matter further. If nothing else it was a potential avenue of investigation.

"Thank you, Miss Parkhurst."

He rose from the desk and pushed back his chair, "I'm heading over to the hangar to see Donald, if anyone should want me."

Miss Parkhurst nodded in response, "Very good, Mr James."

"I think I'll give Rosa a quick look over before Molly arrives." He noticed the frown on Miss Parkhurst's face and as he strode out of the office onto the airfield, a smile hovered around the corners of his mouth. Miss Parkhurst definitely disliked machines with names.

X-X-X-X

With an impatient flick of the wrist accompanied by a sharp exhalation of breath, Bella turned the page of the magazine she was reading.

"That's the umpteenth time you've done that since you got home, Bella." Molly was beginning to be irritated by Bella's attitude and general demeanour since Saturday evening. When she had returned after the dance she had been very upset and annoyed with Tom and almost as soon as Molly had appeared in the hall to find out what the commotion was about, Bella had blurted out, "Tom's decided he's off travelling when he's finished in the army and I can go hang for all he cares."

Molly had been shocked at the news as she had felt certain that a nice lad like Tom who was very keen on Bella would be back to Nethercombe like a shot once his time in the army came to an end.

"You must be mistaken, Bella. What did he actually say?"

Bella's voice trembled slightly as she repeated, "He said he doesn't think he'll be coming back here when he's finished his National service."

To Molly's surprise a sob escaped from Bella at the conclusion of the sentence. Molly reached out to place a consoling hand on Bella's arm, "Perhaps he's just going to take a holiday or something."

Bella shook her head and a tear rolled down her cheek as she said, "He doesn't mean a holiday he means going away altogether."

Molly tried to take in this news. She was good friends with Marjorie and Robert, they met frequently and Marjorie had confided many of her hopes for the future in Molly. To Molly's ears it was difficult to believe that Tom had no intention of returning to Nethercombe. Neither of his parents had ever mentioned this and she couldn't help thinking it would come as a shock to them.

"What about the shop? Marjorie didn't say anything about it."

Bella looked up, "He hasn't told them. Well, actually he hasn't made any plans yet."

She stared at Molly as if realising she might have said too much, "Don't say anything will you."

Molly was surprised at this, not having expected Bella to want to protect his secrets so soon after being hurt by his words.

"Well, there you are, then," she replied seizing on this little bit of news, "If he hasn't made any plans then chances are he won't go anywhere."

Bella shook her head at this, "But he wants to. Don't you see? He's quite happy to think about just going off and doing what he wants and he doesn't care about me or how long I've been waiting for him to come back." She stared at Molly, "All this time I thought I was really important to him and he's just told me that I'm not." The last couple of words were almost obscured by the tremble in her voice as she fought to control her tears.

Molly put an arm around her sister's shoulders and tried to say something comforting but Bella was clearly very upset and Molly suspected that her feelings for Tom were stronger than either she or Bella herself had realised. It appeared that they were most definitely stronger than Tom's feelings for Bella or he would never have made such a suggestion. On the surface it seemed very much as if Bella was right.

"You've got to talk to him, Bella. You said he hasn't made any plans. Well, perhaps he just needs to know how much you love him."

At the word 'love' Bella turned to her sister as if surprised. Molly shrugged, "Well, you do don't you?"

Bella shook her head, "Right now, I don't know what I think about him," her voice still shaking a little. She moved towards the stairs, "I'm going to bed."

Molly watched her climb the stairs, her laboured steps as she ascended the old uneven staircase, reflecting the disappointment of her hopes. She was saddened. Everything ought to have been so simple between them but it looked as if not even a romance in peacetime could run smoothly.

Bella hadn't helped the situation however, when shortly after two o'clock the following afternoon, Tom had appeared on the doorstep wanting to see her. She had been upstairs in her room, lying on her bed reading a book and was irritated when Molly told her he was in the hall.

"He's got a nerve coming here." Bella flashed an angry look in Molly's direction. The unhappiness of last night had hardened into anger. "Let's see how he likes waiting about. Tell him I'm busy or something." She rolled onto her side with her back to Molly.

"I won't," Molly declared. "If you've got a message, then give it to him yourself." Bella didn't move and Molly, crossing over to her, reached out and tapped her on the shoulder, "Did you hear me?"

Bella snapped the book shut and turned towards Molly with annoyance written all over her face, "Yes, alright, but I'm only doing this because I don't want to seem rude." She moved off the bed and finding her shoes headed downstairs.

Molly wandered onto the landing a couple of minutes later and caught the sound of voices below. She overheard Bella say, "Nothing's changed. Why did you come here?"

There was a pause and then Tom replied, "Because I didn't like the way we parted last night. I just wanted to explain it to you, properly."

"What is there to say?" Bella snapped back at him. "You don't want to come back to anything here or…" she stopped short of saying _anyone_ and there was silence. Molly froze not wanting to interrupt the conversation but willing Bella to tell Tom how important he was to her.

"That's not true," Tom said in a quiet voice. Molly waited again hoping he would say what Bella needed to hear. "I just want to see more of the world before I come back here. Mum and Dad think I'm going to spend the rest of my life running the shop and I probably will but I just want to live a bit before I get tied down."

Molly knew in an instant the response this would provoke.

"Well, I'm glad you've made that clear." The bitterness in Bella's voice was unmistakeable, "Bon bleedin' voyage and if you need it in English, goodbye."

Bella turned and raced up the stairs, pushing past Molly and disappearing into her room, slamming the door shut behind her. Molly descended to the hall, saddened by the conversation, to find Tom staring up at her clearly nonplussed at the way the meeting had ended. Molly reached out and patted him on the arm.

"Sorry about that, Tom. That's Bella for you. But I suppose you know that, don't you." She looked up at the handsome, young man and saw concern written in his face.

"She won't say it," Molly continued, "But she's going to miss you if you go off travelling and she just needs to get used to the idea. Why don't you leave it a couple of days."

He sighed. "I suppose you're right." He turned to go and gave her a wry smile, "A fine old spot of leave this is turning out to be."

Molly shrugged, "Just give it a little bit of time. You're here for a week or so aren't you?"

Tom nodded, "I go back the day after Easter Monday."

"I'm sure there'll be plenty of time to make it up," Molly said with more conviction than she truly believed and Tom seeming to accept this left the house to return to the village.

Twenty-four hours later, sitting in the kitchen at Greystones Bella still appeared to be fuming. She had been to work this morning but it seemed that Tom had wisely kept out of her way although Marjorie had wanted to know everything about the Young Farmer's Dance and she had been forced to recount everything in detail and feign happiness at Tom's surprise appearance, pretending everything was fine which really hadn't helped her mood. It was evident that she was cross by the way she was impatiently attacking the magazine she was reading.

"Go and read it somewhere else if you're going to do that. You're getting on my nerves," Molly complained.

Bella looked up, "Well, you're going out aren't you won't have to put up with it much longer, anyway."

Molly sighed and ignored the petulant tone of Bella's voice, "Well, just remember that Eddie and Rose need to wake up from their naps by three o'clock. Don't let them sleep any longer or I'll never get them to bed tonight. And don't forget to fetch William from school at quarter to four."

Bella rolled her eyes, "Yes Molly. How many times have I done this before?"

Molly stared at her sister, "Plenty, I know. But the mood you're in anything could happen."

Bella opened her mouth to object just as a car horn tooted outside. "That's Marjorie," Molly said picking up a warm woollen scarf from the kitchen table, "I'll be back by about half-past four."

Bella glanced at Molly and taking in the unusual sight of her wearing trousers, boots and a thick sweater remembered where she was going. She nodded and without another word returned her attention to the magazine.

Marjorie was waiting for Molly, sitting behind the wheel of a smart shiny blue Bedford PC van bearing the name Stimpson's General Stores in white lettering. The van was fairly new and Marjorie was enjoying driving it as she had learned to drive one of her father's farm trucks years ago when she was a young girl. When the Bedford had arrived a few weeks ago she had joked that she felt more at home behind the wheel of a tractor than a car. However, she had soon adapted and had often been seen out and about around the village and the area since.

"It's a nice van," Molly observed. as it was the first time Marjorie had picked her up.

"Well, it's a pity Tom doesn't seem to think so, " Marjorie said as Molly got in.

"Why do you say that?" Molly asked, failing to see the connection.

"Because we were planning to let Tom take over the deliveries when he comes back. The army's taught him to drive and we thought he'd like this but when we mentioned it to him on Sunday he wasn't very keen. Even when we said he could take Bella out somewhere for the day if he wanted."

Molly had a good idea why Tom had not been very enthusiastic about his parents' proposals and why the idea of day trip had met with little enthusiasm but felt duty bound to keep quiet. It was obvious from what Bella had said that he didn't want his parents to know about his future plans and it wasn't her place to say anything.

As Marjorie drove away from Greystones and reached the end of the drive, she paused before turning out onto the open road. Molly, thinking of her friend's words said in as casual a tone as she could muster,

"I expect Tom's just got his mind on other things, Marjorie. Anyway, you can't expect everyone to be as enthusiastic as you."

Marjorie gave her a quick sideways glance, "You think I'm enthusiastic?"

Molly smiled and nodded. Since she had agreed to give a talk at a WI meeting, Marjorie had been keen to accompany her to the airfield and offered more than once to drive her there. Molly suspected that she was very keen to take a closer look at Rosa.

"I've got a camera with me," Marjorie conceded adding with haste, "Robert suggested we get some slides made for you to use with your talk."

Molly glanced at her friend.

"You're taking this a bit seriously aren't you, Marjorie?"

Marjorie grinned, "It's alright for you with all your flying experience but it's pretty exciting for me. I don't know anyone who's even climbed into an aeroplane except you and Charles."

Molly reflected that it was hard to believe that a girl like her from such a lowly background in the East End of London was spending a couple of free hours one afternoon taking an aeroplane out for a flight as if it was the most natural thing in the world. It was hardly surprising that to Marjorie it sounded daring and exotic and a thought occurred to her.

"How would you like be the envy of everyone, Marjorie?"

Marjorie, concentrating on steering safely through the winding country lanes, didn't dare take her eyes from the road.

"What are you talking about?"

Molly smiled to herself contemplating the plan that was forming in her mind, "Just you wait and see."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

The sound of the doorbell ringing was drowned out by the piercing scream which filled the air. Rose had woken from her afternoon nap in a very grumpy mood and every attempt of Bella's to placate her had failed. Cuddling her, trying to distract her and now sitting her in a high chair in the kitchen trying to offer her milk and bread and jam had also had little effect. Rose picked up the bread and jam and threw it in Bella's direction and Edward, sitting in his chair, his eyes watching the food and waiting for his share, chose that moment to join in with a bellow of frustration and annoyance that surpassed even Rose's attempt.

The bread and jam had landed sticky side down on the floor and Bella, bending to scoop it up, was reaching the end of her tether.

"For goodness sake, Rose, put a sock in it will you," she called over the din.

As if by magic the noise stopped and Bella, standing up again, looked at the twins in surprise seeing them both staring ahead, their attention captured by something beyond her.

"I'm sorry for barging in, but I could hear screaming and no one answered the door."

Bella almost jumped out of her skin at the sound of the well-modulated, upper class male voice and spun around to see Peter Wilton standing in the doorway watching the scene. It was clearly Peter's arrival which had shaken the twins from their tantrums.

Bella was astonished and flustered in equal measure by his appearance. He was the last person in the world she would have expected to see and she was uncomfortable in his presence. He was undeniably handsome with his dark, slightly unruly back hair swept back from his forehead, emphasising his even-features and the intense expression in his blue eyes which were firmly fixed upon Bella. Today he was well-dressed in a casual sports jacket and open neck shirt and despite the fact he had invited himself into someone else's home he seemed very much at ease.

"Why are you here?" Bella knew she sounded abrupt, bordering on rude but given their previous meeting she didn't feel she owed him any particular debt of civility and she was annoyed by the way he was looking at her.

Peter gave a faint smile and held out a brown paper bag, "I think this belongs to your niece or nephew."

Bella took the bag from him and looked inside to see Edwards' dirty, grey, over-loved 'blankie'. There was no doubt that Edward had been very unhappy about its absence over the weekend and he at least would welcome its return. He caught sight of the object in Bella's hand, stretched out towards it and began to whine as he strained to reach it. Bella handed over 'blankie' and Edward grasped it firmly in his pudgy hand and hugged it to him like a long lost relative.

"I intercepted it on its way to the incinerator," Peter added by way of explanation, "I don't think my mother realised how valuable it is."

Bella noticed the use of the word 'valuable' and felt obliged to say something.

"Thank you for bringing it back. Eddie's keen on it even if the rest of us can't stand it." Bella didn't know what else to say and avoided his gaze until she heard him laugh. He took a few steps into the kitchen,

"Max's sister has something like that and she can't bear to be without it, so I thought I'd rescue it."

Bella glanced at him, "Who's Max?"

"Forgive me for not explaining. My friend, Max Bellingham, you met him at the dance."

Bella remembered the well-spoken, fair-haired young man and nodded, "I see."

Peter continued, "We're both up at the moment."

Bella raised an eyebrow, "Up?"

Peter shook his head at himself, "Sorry, I meant we're both up at Oxford." He took another step towards her, "Only, at the moment we're down."

Bella suppressed a smirk and said with as straight a face as she could manage, "I see. So you should be 'up' but you're not because you're 'down'."

Peter could see her fighting her amusement at his incoherent statement and cleared his throat, "What I should have said is, I'm home for the Easter holidays and Max is staying with us."

Bella looked directly at him for the first time, "Why don't you just say that, then?"

He laughed out loud at this and replied without any sarcasm, "You're right, of course."

They lapsed into silence and Bella assumed that with nothing more to say and his errand completed Peter would now take his leave but instead he took a couple of steps nearer and spoke directly to the twins.

"What was all the noise about then?" He reached out to grasp Edward's foot sticking out and hidden below the tray of his high chair. Edward giggled and kicked his foot in response. Peter quickly grasped the other foot and the little boy laughed all the more. Before long he was keeping each of the twins guessing as to which foot he would grab and they had responded with more smiles and giggles.

Bella looked on in astonishment and said, "Well you wouldn't guess it now but Rose woke up grumpy after her nap and Edward decided to join in. They hadn't shut up for about twenty minutes. Well, not until you arrived."

"I always seem to have that effect on children. Max's mother says I should consider a career as a Nanny," Peter said without taking his attention from the twins.

The thought of someone like Peter Wilton being a Nanny made Bella laugh out loud and at this he turned to look at her, a grin on his face, "So you can smile then."

"I beg your pardon?" Bella replied.

"Well, you haven't exactly been very pleased to see me so far."

"Are you surprised?" she responded. "You knocked me off my bicycle and then at the dance you seemed to think it was funny and you were rude about Molly and Charles."

Peter straightened up and turned around to look at her, "When I said I was sorry about the bicycle incident, I meant it. I didn't mean to sound insincere." She was conscious of his eyes fixed upon her. "I borrowed the car from the chauffeur and was rushing to get back to pick up my parents. I am truly sorry." He hesitated and then added, "I know that my parents had a disagreement with your sister and brother-in-law, but please don't imagine that I agree with everything they say and do."

Taking in the earnest expression in his face Bella decided that the apology was genuine and said in a quiet voice, "Well, no real harm done and my bicycle was alright, so perhaps we'd better forget about it."

He held out his hand to her, "Shall we shake on it?"

Bella fought the urge to laugh but held out her hand to him in a formal gesture of acceptance. He took her hand in his and she felt the warm pressure of his fingers wrapped around her own. He held onto her hand just a little longer than necessary and only released it when he felt her start to pull away from him. There was a moment's silence before the clock in the hall struck the half hour.

"Oh blimey," Bella exclaimed, "It's half past three. I've got to get down to the school to fetch William." She turned to look at Edward and Rose, their faces covered in bread and jam.

"Doesn't he walk home by himself?" Peter asked, calculating that it was only half a mile or so into the village.

Bella frowned, "Molly doesn't like him coming up the lane," she glanced at Peter, "She's worried about the narrow road and cars or tractors coming along."

Peter looked apologetic and then said, "I'll give you a lift if you like. I've got the Daimler outside."

Bella's eyes opened wide in surprise and she said with a hint of concern in her voice, "I've got to take Eddie and Rosie as well."

Peter shook his head, "That's alright. I think it's the least I can do after knocking you off your bicycle _and_ making you late."

X-X-X-X

Molly was amused by the excitement in her friend's voice as she and Marjorie turned off the main road into the airfield.

"Goodness, Molly, those aeroplanes look an awful lot bigger on the ground than up in the air."

Molly laughed, "You should have seen the Lancasters Charles used to fly. These are tiny in comparison."

She thought briefly of 'C for Charlie' at RAF Milton; Charles' aeroplane and her own. She and the rest of the ground crew had loved that plane, cared for it, repaired all the mechanical faults, patched up the bullet holes and shell damage and nursed it through its tour of duty as if it was their own beloved child as well as waiting sick with nerves each time it left on a mission, willing it to return with its crew. She remembered the final mission, the one that had resulted in its demise, crashing and breaking up on the runway with Charles seriously injured at the controls fighting to keep control and save everyone onboard. After all its faithful service and all their loving care it had ended on a scrap heap at the far end of the aerodrome. It had, however, signalled the end of Charles' flying career and the start of their new life together.

As they drove past the control tower Molly saw Charles out on the gantry above them. He waved and then disappeared inside, probably on his way down to meet them. Molly instructed Marjorie to park in front of the hangar and by the time she had turned off the ignition, the broad-chested, sandy-haired figure of Donald MacKenzie was striding in their direction.

"Afternoon Molly," he called, his broad Glaswegian accent unaffected by ten years of living south of the border.

He noticed Molly was with a friend and Molly introduced her, "Marjorie, this is Donald MacKenzie, our Chief Mechanic." Donald held out a hand to her and Marjorie introduced herself.

"Have you ever been up in a Tiger Moth?" Donald asked her.

Marjorie shook her head, "I'm afraid not."

Molly grinned and raised her eyebrows in an enquiry, "I was going to ask you, Donald, do you still have that spare flying jacket and helmet in the office?"

Donald nodded, "Aye, why do you ask?"

Molly turned to her friend, "Because, I think that Marjorie here should be introduced to the miracle of flight. What do you say, Marjorie, are you game?"

The astonishment on her friend's face was a picture to behold as she stood speechless at the prospect of being taken up in the Tiger Moth by Molly. At that moment Charles arrived and caught sight of Marjorie's face.

"What's going on?"

"I'm going flying," Marjorie stammered before giving a nervous laugh, "I don't know what Robert would say if he knew."

Charles smiled and placing his arm around Molly said, "You're in very safe hands. She's the best pupil I've ever had."

Molly looked at him with gratitude but couldn't help teasing, "How many times have you said that?"

Charles laughed, "Possibly more than once, but in your case I really mean it." He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her at the waist, "You'll be brilliant."

Twenty minutes later after dressing for the flight, discussing her route with Charles and making her pre-flight checks, Molly taxied Rosa away from the hangar towards the far end of the runway and turning her head, heard Charles shout above the noise of the engine,

"Nothing spectacular. Take it nice and steady."

Molly waved a gloved hand in acknowledgement and continued on her way out across the grass to position the little aeroplane facing into the wind, ready for take-off. She waited for a signal from the control tower giving her permission for take-off before accelerating along the runway until she reached forty miles per hour and the little plane began to lift into the air. In front of her she could see the top of the Marjorie's head, moving from side to side, taking in the view and the whole experience. As the wheels finally lifted clear of the ground, Molly was sure she could hear a whoop of delight from Marjorie and laughed wishing she could see her friend's face.

X-X-X-X

Bella had only had a few minutes in which to wipe the sticky hands of Rose and Edward and put on their shoes and coats before ushering them into the Daimler parked outside. Needing to accompany the twins in the back, she watched as Peter climbed into the driving seat, pretending to doff his cap at her before pulling away from Greystones and driving in the direction of Nethercombe. It was only when they were half way there that Bella noticed a large blob of Jam on Rose's knee which she was busy rubbing all over the leather seat next to her. Bella, having left in a hurry, discovered she had no handkerchief in her pocket to wipe the Jam away. Instead, she grabbed Rose's hand to stop her making the sticky patch any worse and had to contend with noisy squealing protests from her all the way to the village. The noise was enough to prevent any conversation and so Peter concentrated on driving although once or twice Bella noticed him looking at her in the driver's mirror.

The clock on the church tower was striking a quarter to the four when the Daimler swept onto the road in front of the Green on its way towards Nethercombe Village School. As it approached Stimpson's General Stores, Peter had to slow and then stop as a pony and trap turned in front of the car into the alleyway between the shop and the cottage next door. As the car came to a halt Bella saw the shop door open and Tom emerge, dressed casually in a pale blue shirt and grey trousers. He glanced at the car and looked away before snapping his head back in its direction again. He stared at the car and directly at Bella, confusion and surprise written all over his face. Then he seemed to notice the driver and she saw his expression change to one of incredulity. She didn't wonder at his surprise. The sight of Bella and the twins being chauffeur driven by Peter Wilton must have been the last thing he would have expected to see. The pony and trap had cleared the road and Peter moved off again. Bella turned her head and caught Tom's eye but he pointedly turned his back on her and busied himself with the display outside.

As the car stopped at the school gates children started to stream out of the Cotswold stone Victorian building into the playground. Bella got out of the car just as William came through the gates. She saw the look of amazement on his face as he saw the car and he called out,

"Why are you in that big car, Auntie Bella?"

Peter Wilton joined her and she replied, "I was running a bit late, Will and this gentleman kindly gave us all a lift." She indicated Peter.

"Can I have a ride in it?" William asked, a mixture of hope and excitement in his voice.

At this Peter looked slightly embarrassed, "I'm really sorry, Bella, but I have to collect my Mother from the Vicarage and take her home."

Bella nodded her head, "Of course." She thought nervously of the sticky leather seat in the car but there was nothing she could do. "Well, thank you for the lift. We'll be absolutely fine now."

She turned and reached into the car scooping up each of the twins and, pushing Rose towards William, asked him to hold her hand. She saw him do as he was asked and then a look of disgust cross his face. He was about to announce his discovery of Rose's sticky hand but Bella silenced him with a fierce scowl. She grasped Edward by the hand and looking in Peter's direction called, "Goodbye."

They turned to go and Edward started to complain but Bella scooped him up and set off down the road with William and Rose behind her.

The two hundred yard walk from the school to the shop took an eternity to complete. Having left in such a hurry, Bella hadn't brought the pushchair with her and had not given a second thought to the journey back to Greystones on foot with William and two toddlers. When they reached the shop they found Tom was still outside, transferring potatoes from a sack into a tray. He looked up.

"Not getting a lift back then?"

Bella glared at him she didn't like the tone of his question and retorted, "No, why would we?"

"I didn't realise you were friends with Peter Wilton," he observed, the expression in his eyes betraying his curiosity. She knew he was probing for answers.

Bella shrugged, "I wouldn't say we were friends but he dropped in this afternoon."

"Dropped in?" Tom's retort was immediate and betrayed his jealousy. "You obviously know him well enough for him to just drop in whenever he feels."

She shook her head, "What's it to you, if he did call by? I don't ask questions about what you do when you're away."

Tom put his hands on his hips and shook his head, "You really take the biscuit, Bella Dawes. You get on your high horse about me wanting to do something different when I finish in the army and act as if you sit around pining for me to return but really you're friends with people like Peter Wilton who just call on you whenever they feel like it. I thought I knew you. In fact, I thought you were someone different altogether." They glared at each other. Tom, unable to comprehend what he was discovering about Bella, something he hadn't thought possible and Bella, furious at his words and unable to say anything for fear that she would end up shouting at him in the street.

The sound of a horn hooting broke the silence and the roar of an engine announced that the Daimler was pulling up behind them. Peter leaned across to open the passenger window.

"Mother's not ready to go yet, would you like a lift home, Bella. It can't be easy walking back with Eddie and Rosie," adding as an after-thought, "You don't mind do you, Tom, old boy."

William started dancing on the spot in excitement. Tom noted the casual way Peter had referred to the twins and his jealousy hardened into anger directed at Bella. With a false and brittle smile he said, "Be my guest. Anytime you like. It's nothing to me."

If it hadn't been broad daylight, Bella swore she would have slapped Tom at that moment. How dare he do that to her. She couldn't even bring herself to speak to him again. She turned on her heel, opened the car door and ushered the children into the back before pointedly climbing into the front seat alongside Peter and as they moved away she stared straight ahead, refusing to look in Tom's direction again. If what she did was nothing to him than she no longer cared what he thought.

X-X-X-X

The flight had been uneventful. Molly had taken Marjorie on a circular route out towards Cirencester flying over the town, showing Marjorie the familiar sights from a completely new angle before turning back towards Nethercombe and doing a couple of circuits of the area, taking in the centre of the village and travelling out as far as Holton farm, Marjorie's childhood home, where her elderly father still farmed with the help of her two cousins, Cyril and Jack. Marjorie had brought her camera with her, determined to take some aerial photographs of the area and Molly had flown the plane straight and level allowing her lean over the side of the open cockpit and take some pictures. Goodness only knew how they would look when developed she thought. Marjorie was an enthusiastic amateur who had never flown before and aerial photography demanded some skill but hopefully something would be clear enough to use in Molly's talk. Marjorie had insisted before they left the ground that they line up beside Rosa to have their photographs taken saying that she wanted to mark this historic occasion, being the first flight of a Stimpson.

They were nearing the airfield again and as Molly descended she had a clear view of the grounds at Cookham Grange. Although at a distance,she could clearly identify the figure of Lady Wilton getting out of the Daimler which was parked on the driveway in front of the house. She saw Lady Wilton turn and tilt her head skywards, acutely aware of the annoying sound of an approaching aircraft. The temptation was too great.

There was a clear approach over open parkland and Molly, making an instantaneous decision, dived, opened up the throttle and accelerated towards the house. By the time she reached Lady Wilton she was only about sixty feet above the ground. She could see Lady Wilton transfixed and astonished at the sight of a yellow Tiger Moth roaring towards her. At the last moment she bent double throwing her voluminous handbag over her head as if afraid that the plane would mow her down and the handbag would offer some kind of protection.

Molly pulled Rosa out of the dive and banked to the right, turning her head in time to see Lady Wilton, now upright, watching the little plane ascending and flying in the opposite direction, clearly more indignant than frightened by what had happened. For a brief moment Molly heard Charles' words ringing in her ears, _Nothing spectacular. Take it nice and steady_ and guilt flooded her mind. However, remembering the way Lady Wilton and her husband had behaved at the drinks party and her treatment of herself at the WI meeting she couldn't help but smile. If Lady Wilton dared to complain she would simply say it was an over enthusiastic trainee pilot. Above the noise of the engine she thought she could hear Marjorie shouting something but it was too indistinct and she turned her mind to the approach and landing at the airfield above which she was now circling before making her final descent.

The little aeroplane landed with two gentle bounces and then rolled along the grass runway before Molly taxied slowly towards the hangar and then shut down the engine allowing the propeller to come to a stop. Donald appeared from the hangar smiling and wiping his hands on an oily rag and Jim, his young apprentice, ran for the step ladder to help the ladies climb out.

"Good flight?" Donald enquired.

"Brilliant," Molly beamed at him. She undid her seat belt, climbed out of the cockpit and turned to Marjorie, "Well, what did you think of that, Marjorie?"

Marjorie was still sitting in her seat staring ahead, a look of astonishment on her face. She turned to Molly shaking her head in disbelief, "That was amazing, Molly. Thank you. I can't wait to tell Robert."

Molly offered her a hand and she climbed out of the aeroplane clutching her camera.

"Wait till I show Robert the photographs. He'll be so envious."

She stepped down onto the grass and Donald and Jim busied themselves with the Rosa. Molly and Marjorie walked towards the van parked near the hangar.

"Goodness," Marjorie exclaimed, "Driving this thing is going to seem tame by comparison. I don't think I can quite match your skills, Molly."

Molly feigned a look of concern, "Oh, please don't do anything like that in this, Marjorie, I need to get home in one piece for the children."

Molly looked up and saw Charles leaving the control tower and making his way towards them having watched them land and taxi over to the hangar. A broad smile lit up his face. For some reason Molly's heart leapt at the sight of him, tall, lean and handsome as ever with all his focus on her alone and for a moment she wished she could capture the feeling forever. She smiled back at him, their eyes locked and a yearning desire coursed through her. What she wouldn't have given in that moment to just be alone with him anywhere.

"Molly," Marjorie whispered to her, completely shattering the moment. "Just now when we were flying over Cookham Grange did you notice Lady Wilton getting out of that car?"

Molly, somewhat unfocused and surprised by the stirring of emotions that the sight of her husband had generated, said in a vague tone, "Oh, yes."

"Molly!" the look of incredulity coupled with the amused outrage in Marjorie's voice brought Molly back to her full senses. She turned to her friend.

"I shouldn't have done it." She looked a little sheepish, "But she deserved it for being so rude and snooty." A silly thought came to her and she started to giggle, "Do you think that handbag of hers is armour plated?"

At this, Marjorie burst into laughter and Molly couldn't help but join her.

They were still laughing when Charles reached them.

"What's so hilarious?"

Molly and Marjorie exchanged glances. Marjorie raised her eyebrows asking Molly's permission to say something but the warning look in Molly's eyes was enough for her to know that she should keep silent about the details of their flight.

"Nothing, Charles," Molly replied reaching up to touch his face and kiss him, "Just that old saying, you know, a pleasure shared is a pleasure doubled."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

"Was that Peter Wilton with your Bella just now?" Robert called to his son as the shop door slammed shut and the bell rang furiously in the wake of a hefty shove from Tom's left foot.

"She's not _my_ Bella," Tom muttered without looking in his father's direction or seeing the surprise in his face. Tom returned to the boxes and crates lying in the middle of the shop floor and began removing tins ready for stacking on the shelves behind the counter. He heard his father clear his throat.

"Have you had a falling out, son? You can tell me about it if you want."

Tom sighed and hoped he wasn't destined for a man to man chat. He knew that he was fortunate. His father had always been warm-hearted, generous with his time and willing to listen to him. He supposed that being an only child was part of the reason that his parents and in particular his father were so indulgent. He was aware that many of his childhood friends and the lads he had met in the army had a more distant relationship with their parents and envied the relaxed way in which he could converse with them and share his problems. However, after the events of the weekend and Bella's response to the plans he had shared with her, the last people he felt able to confide in at this moment were his parents. If Bella had reacted so badly to his news he couldn't see his parents liking the idea any more. To cap it all, Bella now appeared to have formed an acquaintance with Peter Wilton.

Tom and Peter had moved in very different social circles as children but as two young men of a similar age growing up within the confines of Nethercombe, attending village events and both members of Nethercombe Cricket Club, their paths had crossed quite often before Peter had gone up to Oxford and Tom had begun his National Service. As a child he had formed little opinion of Peter; as a man he disliked him.

Peter had a reputation. Tom had heard rumours, particularly one concerning a farmer's daughter the other side of Cookham. If the stories were to be believed her family had been obliged to hush up an embarrassing situation and send her away to stay with relatives indefinitely. It was certainly true that Peter hadn't been seen at home in the holidays very often since going up to Oxford two years ago. The whispered opinion amongst the gossips was that the Wiltons wished to avoid further embarrassment and he spent the holidays with friends. Tom had been surprised to see him at the Young Farmer's Dance on Saturday but supposed that he must return home from time to time if only to see his parents and this was one of those occasions. At the dance they hadn't spoken and just the merest nod of acknowledgement had passed between them.

The fact that Peter was 'dropping in' on Bella had come as an unwelcome surprise to Tom. Even so, he wished now that he hadn't reacted so jealously to the news. He knew Bella well enough to recognise when she was angry and he knew she had been furious with him. It had only taken a minute for him to regret every stupid word he had uttered, particularly casually offering up his girlfriend to Peter Wilton, of all people.

Tom almost threw two tins of peaches onto the shelf at which his father cried, "Putting a dent in those tins won't solve anything and I'll have the devil's own job to sell them."

Tom took a deep breath and looked up at his father. Robert, oak-like in stature and manner, fair-haired, and still handsome in his early fifties, was watching his son with a look of compassion and understanding.

"You might find it difficult to believe, with me being so hard to resist when I was younger, but even your mam and me had fallings out in our courting days." There was a twinkle in his eye as he spoke and Tom couldn't help but smile.

"I can believe that, Dad."

"You cheeky young bugger," Robert chuckled as he walked towards Tom. Reaching him he placed a hand on his shoulder, "Look, son, I don't know why you two are arguing and you might not want my opinion but I'll give it to you anyway. You're a fool if you let a lass like Bella go. A man couldn't want anything more. You know your mam and me think the world of her and believe me that's not always the case." He patted Tom as if to reassure him, "Don't let the grass grow under your feet. Get after her and put things right as soon as you can."

Tom knew his father was right. He had been jealous, spoken rashly and inflamed a situation that was already awkward. He didn't want this to continue. He would walk up to Greystones this evening, find Bella and talk to her but his time he wouldn't leave until she understood.

X-X-X-X

William walked into the house leading the twins by the hand, tugging awkwardly at Rose as she tried to pull away from him and stay behind with Bella.

"Go on, Rosie," Bella coaxed

The little girl stopped complaining and disappeared into the house behind her older brother. Bella turned to Peter who was leaning against the driver's door of the Daimler after bringing them back to Greystones.

"You have a magic touch. A few words are all it takes," he observed.

Bella pulled a face, "I dunno about that. You saw what she was like earlier and it was you who managed to shut her up then, so that can't be true."

"I wasn't talking about Rose." Peter responded. He caught Bella's eye. There was a serious look on his face and Bella understood his meaning. The uncomfortable feeling returned, the one from which she wanted to hide.

"Well, thanks for the lift, you really saved the day." Her words were unnecessarily brusque and Peter seemed amused.

"Something funny?" she asked.

"You."

The direct response threw her and in her embarrassment she started to gabble, "Daft, I might be but I don't know many jokes, so I'm definitely not funny."

He took a couple of steps towards her, "Well, you're amusing me now."

Bella was nonplussed, "What d'you mean?

He reached out and gently touched her face. She felt the tips of his fingers, soft against her cheek and wanted to brush them away but she couldn't bring herself to do so. Her face was growing warm and she knew she must be blushing. It was maddening to feel like this considering how much she had detested him only a short while ago. He leaned a little closer and she felt herself freeze unsure what would happen or whether she would have the nerve to tell him to go away. His face was close to hers, so close that she felt the warmth of his breath on her skin and in the moment that she finally resolved to move away from him he said in a soft voice, "Come on a picnic with me."

He must have seen the flash of surprise in her eyes because he stepped back and seemed amused again.

"I don't think so," Bella replied at once, infuriated by the idea that he might simply be making fun of her for his own amusement.

"Please yourself," Peter said in a goodnatured tone, "but I'm going on one tomorrow, anyway. I'll tell you what; if you change your mind I'll be at Nethercombe Cross at eleven tomorrow morning."

"I won't change my mind." Bella stared at him trying to impress upon him that she meant what she said.

He laughed aloud at this which only seemed to make him appear even more ridiculously handsome and it annoyed her further still. Smiling he climbed into the Daimler and started the engine. He wound down the window, his blue eyes fixed upon her,

The car started to pull away. "It's a lady's prerogative you know," he called.

"What is?" Bella shouted after him. He didn't answer but waved his hand in a gesture of farewell and drove off leaving Bella staring after him. What on earth was he talking about?

X-X-X-X

The girl was sitting on a suitcase in the middle of the lane. She had taken off one of her shoes and was rubbing the back of her heel with her hand, wincing as she did so from the pain of a large blister which had formed. It was a high heeled court shoe and quite unsuitable for a two mile walk from Cookham Halt Station. It was approaching seven o'clock in the evening and the light was starting to fade. She sighed, looked around her and wondered just how much further the walk would be; the suitcase had been heavy and her feet were killing her.

When she saw the tall figure of a young man turning the corner of the lane and walking towards her she was relieved. She hadn't seen any cars or anyone else on the way here and had been hoping she might be able to cadge a lift or in the absence of a lift, at least find someone who might be able to give her directions. As the man drew nearer she could see the curiosity in his face. A girl sitting on a suitcase all alone in the middle of a deserted lane was an unusual sight. The fact that she remained sitting where she was without any attempt to get up was even more curious.

The man was about ten yards away when he addressed her, "Hello. Are you alright?"

The girl nodded and said in a matter-of-fact voice, "Yes, just a blister."

Tom Stimpson drew level with her and glanced at her feet, seeing the inappropriate shoes, "Where are you heading?"

She raised her eyes to look at him, "Towards Nethercombe. Why do you want to know?"

Tom interpreted the question as wariness rather than rudeness and replied, "I just wondered if you needed a hand with your case?"

She still looked wary but equally resigned to the necessity of obtaining some help, "I wouldn't say no, if you don't mind." She got up, grimacing as she did. "I thought there'd be a bus from the station but the Station Master said the last bus was at six o'clock and told me to walk in this direction. I didn't realise how far it was going to be."

Tom reached for her case and picked it up. It was heavy. No wonder she'd been taking a rest in the middle of the road.

"What have you got in here?" he joked.

The girl shrugged, "Pretty much everything I own."

Tom was surprised but said nothing. In truth, he was struck by the sadness of someone so young carrying their whole life in one leather suitcase and by the unemotional way in which she had imparted this fact.

They set off along the lane, Tom leaning over a little to one side counterbalancing the weight of the suitcase whilst beside him the girl limped along evidently in pain from her blistered heel. The silence drew out and felt awkward,

"I'm Tom Stimpson," he said at last, realising that they hadn't introduced themselves and hoping it would spark some conversation.

"Nice to meet you, Tom," she replied with a wince at the pain in her heel before lapsing into silence again and walking even more slowly than before.

"You could take your shoes off," Tom suggested. "The surface of the road is pretty good and it's dry."

The girl looked uncertain at this suggestion but after another ten painful yards, she stopped, took off her shoes and carried on walking in her stockinged feet.

"You were right," she conceded at last. "I thought I was never going to make it in these." She waved the offending shoes in the air.

"Where did you say you were going?" Tom asked.

"I didn't," the girl responded, "but if you must know, I'm going to visit a friend who lives here."

"What's your friend's name?" Tom asked. "I know most people who live round here."

She looked up at him out of the corner of her eye, "I bet you do."

Tom glanced sideways. There was just the hint of a smile on her face at last. For a moment or two Tom thought she was going to keep the information to herself but then she seemed to relent,

"My friend's name is Molly. She used to be Molly Dawes but it's something else, now."

Tom was surprised. "Do you mean Molly James?"

The girl nodded and smiled properly for the first time, "Yes, that's her."

X-X-X-X

"What the hell were you thinking?" Charles cried, hands on hips, his eyes boring into Molly, their expression a mixture of disbelief and fury. "Did you think I wouldn't find out or that Sir Percival wouldn't be straight on the telephone to complain?"

Molly swallowed hard. The news that, by the time she and Marjorie had left the airfield that afternoon, Sir Percival had called and fired a broadside at Charles about the antics of a reckless pilot, practically dive bombing his wife, had brought home to Molly the full folly of her actions. She was silently kicking herself for being so stupid.

"Did you tell him it was me?" Molly bit her lip in anticipation of his answer.

Charles ran his fingers through his hair, clearly exasperated, "No, I didn't. I blamed it on some fictional pupil who I tore off a strip when we returned."

"Well you are now, aren't you?" Molly replied under her breath.

Charles exhaled, still annoyed with her, "But you're an experienced pilot, Molly. Why did you do that when you know how awkward things are? The last thing I need is you behaving like some impetuous kid. I saw enough of that in the war."

"I'm sorry," Molly replied, "I couldn't help it. She's just so bleedin' stuck up. I'll apologise if you want." She was quaking at the thought but felt she must offer.

Charles looked at her as if weighing up the use of making such an apology. He shook his head, "Don't bother, it won't make any difference. In fact it will probably make it worse. I don't need _that_ kind of help, Molly."

They stared at each other both lost in their own thoughts. Charles was still angry at Molly. He remembered the looks on the faces of Molly and Marjorie on the return from their flight and Molly's quip about a shared pleasure. At the time, given the smile on her face and the way she had looked at him as he had walked towards her, he had wondered whether it was a subtle hint to him that she was in a good mood and he had looked forward to going home that evening. All such thoughts were sadly dispelled the moment Sir Percival's unwelcome voice had blasted out of the telephone receiver and he realised that her independent, bordering on reckless, streak had surfaced again.

If he was completely honest, he wished he had been there to see it himself. He couldn't help having a grudging respect for his wife's nerve even if it had made life difficult again. He also recalled that way back in the early days of his service in the RAF, a few years before the war, when he had been posted to Coastal Command he had received the bollocking of a lifetime from his commanding officer for making a low level pass over the home of a Rear Admiral's daughter in Dartmouth. He had been seeing Lucinda for a few weeks and having shot her a line about his flying ability was keen to demonstrate his skills. When he buzzed her home on a hot, clear June day, whilst on his return to base, he had not realised that the Rear Admiral, having very recently returned from an overseas visit, was hosting a garden party. His actions not only ended his C.O's good opinion of him but also his fledgling romance with young Lucinda whose father wouldn't allow him within a mile of his home or daughter again. Now in his late thirties, Charles felt able to excuse his ill-advised actions as youthful impetuousness. The same couldn't be said of Molly and he wondered, not for the first time since meeting her, just how often she would confound his expectations before she was through.

Molly gazed at Charles and wished she could make a good suggestion that would lighten his mood. She regretted her actions. He was right of course; there was no excuse for what she had done. She was nearly thirty, a mother of three, the wife of a respected man and someone who'd been honoured by the King, no less, for her bravery. She shook her head a little at that memory. Even her bravery had been a moment of recklessness, disobeying orders. It was strange how Charles had never asked her for the truth of that moment. When she had lied to him about not hearing him order her away from the burning aeroplane at RAF Milton, he had accepted it. She sighed. She should have thought of him and everyone else before carrying out that stupid manoeuvre today. Annoying Lady Wilton might have been satisfying at the time but it didn't change the situation with the Wiltons.

She moved towards Charles and reached out to grasp his hand and squeeze it tight.

"I _am_ sorry. I promise I won't do anything like that again."

He gazed down at her. She was contrite. No matter what she did he always seemed to forgive her. It was hard to remain angry with her for long with those dark-lashed green eyes fixed upon him. He shook his head marvelling at his own weakness.

"You've done a few things since I met you, Mrs James, and got yourself into a few scrapes over the years."

"I promise I won't…" she began.

He put a finger to her lips and gave her a rueful smile "Hush. Don't make promises you can't keep."

"Have I ever told you I love you?" Molly asked, a smile hovering in the corners of her mouth.

Charles' arms reached out to circle her waist, "Tell me again. I'm all ears."

The smart rap at the front door a few minutes later startled Charles and Molly and he reluctantly, released her from his embrace.

"Are you expecting anyone?" he asked.

Molly shook her head and made for the door. As she entered the hall, Bella appeared from the kitchen having also heard the knock at the door.

"Is it for you?" Molly asked her sister.

Bella shrugged, "How would I know? I'm not a mind reader or anything."

Molly ignored the sarcasm in her sister's voice, grasped the handle and opened the door. Tom Stimpson stood in the doorway carrying a large, brown leather suitcase and accompanied by a slightly built, fair-haired young woman.

The girl smiled and exclaimed at once, "Molly!"

Molly froze in surprise and stared at her

"Don't you recognise me?"

Molly regarded the girl. The soft burr of her accent was familiar but she couldn't place her. She took in the sight of her fair hair deftly styled and pinned, the over-made up face, bright red lipstick at odds with her pale complexion, her blue eyes full of anticipation, the slim figure fashionably attired in a narrow-waisted, full-skirted dress and her high heeled shoes, one of which seemed to have caused a blister as a smear of blood was visible at the heel of her nylon stockings.

The smile on the girl's face began to fade as she realised that Molly was unsure. She tilted her chin upwards and bit her lip. In any other person it might have seemed a gesture of defiance but for a moment, seeing her expression, Molly was afraid that the girl might cry. She seemed to be fighting her hardest to put a brave face on the situation as if she had experienced this before and was determined not to give in to her anxiety. In that moment Molly saw her as she had once been: a motherless child, neglected by her father, abandoned and then, ultimately, an orphan living in a children's home.

"Hattie?"

The girl broke into a smile and the relief was evident in her voice, "I didn't think you remembered me."

Molly shook her head, "Of course I remember you."

The words of Hattie's dying father and the guilt about her actions had stayed with Molly for a very long time. Nine years had passed but how could she possibly forget Hattie Tyler.


	9. Chapter 9

**_Apologies for the long interval between updates. Real Life has intervened a little recently and required more time and attention. Hopefully updates will follow more quickly from here onwards. Thank you as always for reading and for the kind reviews._**

 **Chapter Nine**

As Bella walked into the bedroom, Hattie spun around to face her, back to the looking glass in which she had clearly been admiring herself, guilt written all over her face. Bella glanced down catching sight of the new suede leather court shoes adorning Hattie's feet.

"Why are you wearing my shoes?" she asked unable to keep the note of accusation out of her voice.

Hattie was immediately defensive, "I haven't done any harm." She quickly stepped out of the shoes, bent over and handed them back to Bella who took them from her without another word before putting them away in the wardrobe. When Bella turned back towards her she found Hattie fiddling with the items on the dressing table. She picked up a small enamelled trinket box and turned it over. Bella watched her, wondering what to say. She didn't want Hattie touching her possessions. She didn't want her sharing her bedroom.

The moment Hattie had walked into the house yesterday evening followed by Tom carrying her suitcase, Bella had been wary. She knew of Hattie Tyler of course. Molly had mentioned her from time to time. She was the little girl she had befriended when stationed at RAF Milton during the war. Missing her own family and little sister, Molly had felt sorry for her, particularly the way her shady-dealing father appeared to neglect her. She knew there had been some trouble over her father and Molly had always been reluctant to talk about what had happened particularly as Hattie had ended up in a children's home. When Molly had finally managed to reunite Hattie with her mother she had been overjoyed, having gone to a lot of trouble to find her. However, as far as Bella was aware there had only been occasional correspondence between them since that time. Molly had once told her that Charles had thought it better for them to step away and leave Violet and Hattie to make their own way forward together. The last time Molly had mentioned her she had said that Hattie and Violet were living together in a flat over a shop in Ipswich. That must have been at Christmas, more than a year ago, so it had been a great surprise to everyone to see Hattie Tyler, all grown up and standing on their doorstep entirely unannounced.

Molly had welcomed her in and shortly after Hattie's arrival Bella had gone out to the kitchen to make a pot of tea. A minute or two later Molly and Charles had appeared in the hall and Bella had overheard a whispered conversation.

"Is she staying?" Charles had enquired, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

Molly shrugged, "What else do you suggest? It'll be dark soon and she's travelled a long way. We can't just give her a cup of tea and say nice to see you, now off you go."

"Where's she going to sleep?"

Molly wrinkled her brow considering this, "I suppose we could make a bed up in Bella's room. They're the same age. Bella won't mind." She had looked towards her sister seeking confirmation but the expression on Bella's face told a different story and Molly was forced to ignore the fact that her sister wasn't keen.

Charles hearing this idea also wasn't keen. He had seen the look that Bella had given Hattie when she entered the hall accompanied by Tom and he wouldn't mind betting that she'd be pretty unhappy about the arrangements Molly was proposing.

"Where do you think she's going?" Charles asked.

"She's just come here to see us," Molly answered in all innocence.

"Really? "Charles raised his eyebrows, "Might have been nice to have written first, don't you think?"

Molly shook her head, "She's young, Charles. Perhaps she just thought it would be fun and didn't think about it too much." She smiled up at him, "It's lovely to see her after all this time, don't you think, and to see that she's doing so well after everything."

Charles could see how happy Hattie's unexpected arrival had made Molly. He knew better than anyone how much Molly had blamed herself over the death of Hattie's father. No matter how many times she had been told that Bill Tyler's illegal, black market dealings during the war and his dodgy business associates were the ultimate cause of his own demise, she had felt guilty that her actions in reporting him to the Police had resulted in him abandoning Hattie and being left for dead in a deserted country lane. Charles knew that reuniting Hattie with her mother, Violet, had helped Molly to cope with the guilt. She had needed to know that something good had come out of her actions and bringing mother and daughter back together again had served that purpose. As much as he was proud of Molly for doing something to help them, he believed that it had been the right moment to step away from further involvement and beyond an occasional Christmas card or short letter there was no need to do anything more. If seeing Hattie again made Molly happy he was glad but beyond that he could see no reason to be as enthusiastic about her unexpected appearance as Molly was. However, he could see the sense in Molly's argument. It was late and Hattie was only a young girl.

"Alright, I suppose you'd better invite her to stay then but let's try to find out how long she's going to be here," Molly had reached up and kissed him in reply before they had gone back into the lounge together.

Bella hadn't been in the kitchen for more than a few minutes more before she was joined by Tom who had left the lounge on the pretext of helping with the tea tray. He hovered in the doorway and cleared his throat to get Bella's attention. She looked up to see him shifting his weight uneasily from one foot to the other.

"Bella can I talk to you, please?"

"I've got to make the tea," she replied as if were an answer.

He ignored her reply, "I'm sorry about earlier," he began, "I was a bit annoyed when I saw you with Peter Wilton."

Bella said nothing but turned back to fill the kettle before lighting the gas ring with a match and placing it on the hob.

"It' just…" Tom hesitated, "he's not the sort of chap I thought you'd know."

Bella looked around at him, "What do you mean 'the sort of chap'. Do you mean too upper class to talk to someone like me?"

"No," Tom shot back at her in earnest, "I mean he's not the sort of chap a girl like you would want to know."

Bella shook her head. Tom was making little sense, "What are you on about, telling me I wouldn't want to know him? I do 'know' him as you put it and apart from making me fall off my bicycle the other day, having a couple of stuck-up parents and the bad luck to be from a rich family, he actually seems alright."

Tom could hear the note of annoyance mixed with sarcasm in her voice and cut in before she said any more, "He's got a reputation around here. You know what I mean ...with girls."

Bella remembered the relaxed manner in which Peter had walked into the house earlier today, apologised for the accident with bicycle and helped out with the lift into Nethercombe. She couldn't help herself and laughed aloud. As she laughed she also recalled that moment before he had left when she had wondered if he was going to kiss her and had frozen to the spot unsure how she felt. No doubt he did have a reputation with girls. She'd have to be a simpleton not to recognise that when it came to the opposite sex he wasn't slow in coming forwards.

She stopped laughing and looked Tom directly in the eye, "So, you want to tell me to watch out, do you Tom, because he's a bit full of himself. 'Cos if that's what you're here to tell me, I think I worked it out for myself."

Tom stepped towards her, "That's not what I meant or what I came here for." He pulled a face and fiddled nervously with the cuff of his jacket, "I came to tell you that I don't like us falling out over my plans - the stuff I told you about on Saturday. It doesn't mean that I don't care about you." His voice had softened and he had moved closer to her now. He was so close he could have reached out and pulled her to him if he wanted but he couldn't read the expression on Bella's face and was afraid of rejection. He reached out his hand and gently caught a lock of her hair which was falling tantalisingly across her shoulder. He caressed it between his finger and thumb willing her to come round and see everything from his point of view.

She looked into his eyes and said very quietly, "If you cared about me you wouldn't go."

Her words filled him with sadness. She was asking him to prove that he loved her by doing what she wanted, giving up his dreams to fulfil her own. He wanted to make her happy but his heart told him that at some point in the future their happiness would suffer because it entailed regret.

"If you cared about me, you'd let me go."

His words hit home. He saw her swallow hard, trying to suppress her feelings but she was betrayed by the tear that escaped and rolled down her cheek. "There's no answer then, is there?" she inhaled unsteadily, "You're telling me that you're going, no matter how I feel."

"I'll come back," he entreated, reaching out to grasp her hand and squeeze it tight to reassure her. "You believe that don't you?"

She stared at him, her eyes wide and uncompromising, "When?"

The truth was that he had no idea for how long or how far he would travel. It was painful to admit but he couldn't make her any promises and he could only shrug in response.

The whistle on the kettle began to rise in tone and volume as it started to boil and Bella, shaken by the shrill interruption, pulled her hand away from Tom and turned back to the stove. Forgetting herself she reached out for the kettle to move it remembering a second too late that the handle was too hot to touch and dropped it instantly, cursing, "Bloody thing!"

Tom stepped forward at once to help her but she brushed him away, "Just go away, Tom, please."

He stepped back and watched her reach for a cloth to move the kettle. He tried one last time, "Bella, I do love you."

She paused with her back to him and he waited in anticipation of her response. When she turned towards him her eyes were shining with tears but there was no happy smile upon her face, "But it won't work, will it? You can say you love me, but you can't tell me when you'll be back. That's a funny kind of love, Tom."

They stood in silence each contemplating the meaning of this conversation. To Bella it seemed as if nothing had changed and Tom wouldn't be dissuaded from his plans no matter what he felt for her. To Tom it felt as if he'd been forced to make a choice and would have to live with the consequences no matter how much he might regret it in the future.

"I'm sorry," he looked at her hoping against hope she would relent but her expression didn't alter.

"You'd better leave, Tom. There's nothing else to say."

She saw him hesitate for just a moment longer before appearing to resign himself to what had passed and turning away from her made his way back through the hall towards the front door. Bella closed her eyes and exhaled. How could it all have come to this in the space of a few days? Only a week ago she had been thinking of the future, beginning to make tentative plans about a life she and Tom might have together when he finally left the army. She had waited here in Nethercombe for him, taken a job in his family's shop and come to know the people and places that he knew and all this time he had been forming plans of his own to leave this world and her behind him. Her head was spinning and all her hopes had turned to ashes. She could barely think straight and automatically turned back to the kettle on the hob just in time to hear someone call out, "Are you leaving, Tom?"

She turned her head and saw that Hattie had come out of the lounge for a moment and was standing in the hall next to her suitcase as if she needed to find something. She was smiling up at Tom clearly liking the look of him. Tom muttered something about needing to get back to help his father and she heard Hattie reply with an affected degree of concern, "Oh that's a shame. Still maybe I'll catch you tomorrow or something if I pop down to the village." She smiled sweetly, her head tilted on one side and Bella had no doubt she was flirting with him.

Tom smiled politely, excused himself and wandered to the front door. As he turned to go he caught Bella's eye but said nothing more. He left with the sound of Hattie's bright "Cheerio, Tom," ringing in his ears. Turning back to her suitcase, Hattie caught sight of Bella watching her from the kitchen and called out, "It was really kind of him to carry my suitcase for me. He's nice isn't he?"

Bella nodded and feeling as if she were in a dream said vaguely, "Yes, he's very nice."

Hattie, failing to notice the forlorn note in Bella's voice, said in a conspiratorial tone, "Do you know him well? I think he liked me."

Bella was shaken from her state by the comment and stared at Hattie in disbelief. She'd been in the house only five minutes and she was already eyeing up Bella's boyfriend. The thought brought her up sharply and painfully. He wasn't her boyfriend any more. He'd told her he loved her and she'd told him to leave. How could she think of him that way again. She tried to keep her voice neutral but she struggled as she replied, "I used to know him well."

Standing in her bedroom the following morning watching Hattie fiddling with the objects of on her dressing table, Bella had to fight the urge to tell her to buzz off. She was restrained by the knowledge that although she wasn't impressed by Hattie's manner or attitude she knew that Molly was pleased to see her and wanted her to feel welcome at Greystones.

After taking the tea through to the lounge yesterday evening Bella had sat in distracted silence for half an hour consumed by her own unhappiness whilst Hattie and Molly had conversed catching up on the last few years.

Hattie told them that she and her mother had been living and working in Ipswich for the past two years. Violet worked in the greengrocer's shop below their flat and Hattie had found work in a small local factory.

"Are you on holiday then?" Molly asked.

Hattie smiled and nodded, "Yes, they gave us a few days off for Easter."

"You must have a very generous manager," Charles observed. "It's not Easter until next weekend."

"Oh they're very good like that," Hattie replied without looking in his direction.

"How's your mother, Hattie?" Molly continued, failing to notice the look that passed between Charles and Bella. Hattie proceeded to tell them that her mother was very happy in her job and that she and Harry Warmley, the shop owner and a widower to boot, had a close friendship.

"I think he and mum might get married. He likes her alright and I don't think she'd say no if he asked her."

Molly was pleased that Violet was happily settled, "And what about you, Hattie, do you like your job?"

Hattie shrugged, "It's alright, I suppose but not very exciting. I only took it to help with the housekeeping although if mum married Harry she wouldn't need my money."

"You'd like a more exciting job then?" Charles suggested.

Hattie turned her head in his direction and seemed wary. She shifted in her seat a little, "Well, doesn't everyone? I mean who'd want to be stuck in a boring job for nine hours a day where nothing ever changes and you never meet anyone interesting or have any fun?"

"So what do you do for fun?" Molly asked, "Is there much to do in Ipswich?"

Bella wrinkled her nose, "It's a bit dull, really. There's the pictures and the dance hall on the weekend but there's never anyone glamorous there not like in the pictures. Not much chance of meeting Charlton Heston on a Saturday night is there."

She glanced around the room and catching Bella's eye said, "It must be like that around here as well."

Bella shrugged but said nothing. In spite of her own private misery, she was beginning to find Hattie irritating. There was a moment's silence and then Molly said, "Well, it's certainly been a lovely surprise to see you, Hattie." She saw Charles looking at her meaningfully. She knew she ought to ask Hattie about her plans but could only say, "You will stay with us won't you, Hattie? It's getting late and you must have come a long way. That's if you don't mind sharing with Bella."

It was clear that Hattie was delighted at the invitation although to Bella who had already overheard Hattie telling Tom that she might look for him in the village tomorrow, the feigned appearance of surprise, grated on her. She had met Hattie's type before. Whatever Molly might think, whatever her memories of the sad little girl in the past had been, it was clear to Bella that she had grown into a young woman with an eye for the main chance. Hattie had arrived here clearly expecting to be invited to stay and their exchanged glances told her that neither she nor Charles believed the story about Hattie being on holiday.

"Oh, I'd love to stay Molly, that's really kind of you." Hattie beamed at the rest of them and turning to Bella said, "It'll be like having a sister."

Twelve hours later, the thought of having a sister like Hattie was no more an attractive prospect than it had been the evening before. As they had gone upstairs to bed last night Hattie had chattered away sounding relaxed and happy as she had followed Bella along the landing and been shown into her bedroom. However, after having made her up a bed using the makeshift folding camp bed they stored in the under stairs cupboard for occasions such as these, Bella noticed that Hattie seemed reluctant to open her suitcase in front of her and had waited for her to leave the room before getting undressed. When Bella returned from the bathroom she found that Hattie had changed into a nightdress and was wearing a cardigan.

"Are you cold?" Bella asked, surprised, as it was always quite warm in her south-facing bedroom especially when the sun had been shining during the day.

"I always feel the cold. Got thin skin or something," Hattie replied.

She had gone out to the bathroom and Bella had gazed at the large, battered leather suitcase wondering what was inside. She had seen Tom walk into the house carrying it and from his lopsided gait had gained the impression that it was fairly heavy. It wasn't locked and for a moment Bella considered lifting the lid but her sense of guilt at the idea of prying was too great and she turned away and got into bed.

Lying in bed in the darkness, Bella was conscious of the rustling sounds and creaks from the camp bed in the corner and wished once again that she didn't have to share her room with someone she didn't know. She didn't like her own private space being invaded by someone else and especially tonight when she was in need of solitude more than ever, having had nothing more than a brief moment in which to think about what had happened with Tom earlier. She hoped Hattie would go to sleep quickly and was on the point of covering her head with her pillow to drown out the distracting sounds of someone else in the room when Hattie whispered,

"Are you awake Bella?"

Bella considered saying nothing in the hope of putting her off but finally relented, "Yes, Hattie."

She heard the springs creak as if Hattie were turning towards her, "I was just wondering about that chap, Tom." Bella held her breath, "Is he an old friend of yours or something, cos you said you used to know him."

Bella couldn't believe she was raising this again. "I'm tired Hattie, I'm going to sleep."

"But you did know him then?" Hattie persisted.

"Yes," Bella confirmed, "But he's changed." She rolled onto her side to face away from Hattie and said emphatically, "Goodnight."

Seeing Hattie in her room this morning trying on her shoes without asking and now messing about with all her private possessions Bella simply wanted to get away from her. She didn't want a friend or, god forbid, another sister and certainly not one like Hattie. It was ten thirty, and looking outside she could see it was a beautiful warm spring morning. Molly had hinted at breakfast that maybe Bella would like to show Hattie around the area but all she wanted was to get away from here.

"I'm going out," Bella informed Hattie. She saw Hattie's face fall a little at the news. She had clearly been anticipating a 'sisterly' gossip and if her conversation last night was anything to go by, she was hoping for another opportunity to become better acquainted with Tom Stimpson but Bella had already decided that she would not be party to any further introductions.

Bella picked up her cardigan lying on the bed and her handbag from the back of the chair in the corner of the room.

"Enjoy your day," she said making her best attempt at a smile.

Hattie had rallied a little from the disappointment of not having a companion to show her around, "Oh, I'm sure I will."

"Yes," Bella said nodding in her direction, "I bet you will."

As she left the room she heard Hattie call after her, "Which way are you heading, Bella?"

Bella pretended she hadn't heard. She didn't want Hattie trying to tag along with her but as she descended the stairs her mind was yelling in response – _the wrong way._


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Bella saw him waiting exactly where he had said he would be but she had the advantage over him as he had his back to her and couldn't see her approach. Peter Wilton was leaning against the driver's door of a small black Austin A40, face turned to the sun, eyes closed, enjoying the warmth on his skin. She was thirty yards away but paused and held her breath wondering whether to turn and run away. What on earth was she thinking? Only yesterday she had sworn that she wouldn't be going anywhere with him and yet here she was making a rendezvous with a man she had been warned about. The warning was, however, devalued in her eyes as it had come from someone undoubtedly motivated by jealousy. For a moment she wondered why she had come. Was it because she liked him? Or was it because she was hurt by what had happened with Tom, annoyed by Hattie and simply wanted to forget for a while. Her head was telling her to walk away and she turned and started to move in the opposite direction hoping to silently disappear from sight before he was even aware that she was there.

"You're going the wrong way," he drawled, his tone casual.

Bella stopped in her tracks and turned around. He hadn't moved. He was still standing next to the car with his eyes closed.

"How did you know I was here?"

He turned his head to face her and opened his eyes.

"Lady's prerogative. I told you yesterday."

Bella moved towards him, "Told me what?"

A slow smile spread across his face, "That you'd change your mind."

She narrowed her eyes at this statement and could think of no response until he added, "Of course, I caught sight of you heading this way from the top of Cookham Hill. It's a great vantage point. And I have very good hearing. Your shoes are noisier than you think."

"So you just raced down here and pretended you were waiting on the off chance, did you?"

He grimaced, "Well, I can't deny it but I did genuinely hope that you'd change your mind."

Bella sighed, "Well as it happens, I changed it back again, that's why I was leaving."

"But something made you walk this far," he countered, "In spite of your boyfriend."

The mention of Tom threw Bella into a quandary. If Peter thought she had come here in a clandestine manner without Tom's knowledge he might form the wrong idea. She was annoyed that Tom's words were still nagging at the back of her mind and was determined there should be no misunderstandings.

"I don't have a boyfriend and that has nothing to do with me being here." She found that it had hurt to confess the truth about Tom. If Peter was surprised at the news he didn't show it.

"Fair enough." He gazed up at the sky, "It's a beautiful day, shame to be stuck around here kicking our heels. Are you sure you don't fancy a picnic? I know a great little spot." He smiled at her, a slow easy smile that added warmth to his handsome features and somehow made him seem much less dangerous than Tom had suggested. Bella realised how little she wanted to return to Greystones at this minute especially now that Hattie had taken up residence. He was right. It was a lovely day and she had nowhere else to be today.

"Alright, but," she hesitated. How did you tell someone like Peter that he wasn't to get the wrong idea or try any funny business without sounding prissy or giving offence?

"Just friends," Peter supplied.

Bella nodded, "Yes, that's it. Just friends."

He held open the passenger door of the Austin for her and she got in as demurely as possible, copying the way she'd seen film stars getting into cars on the newsreels at the pictures. He shut the door and walked round to the driver's side. When he climbed in beside her she caught a waft of expensive cologne and just for a moment thought that she was a little like a film star today, being taken out by a handsome, wealthy young man until a thought occurred to her, "Isn't it a bit early to be going on a picnic? It's only eleven o'clock."

Peter glanced at the watch on his wrist, "Yes, you're right. You were very punctual so we're in plenty of time. We should be able to make it by one o'clock."

"Where are we going?" Bella asked, realising that they were about to embark on a two hour car journey.

Peter winked at her, "Wait and see."

X-X-X-X

"There's a young lady down here for you, Tom."

The sound of his father's voice calling up the back stairs roused Tom from his daydream. He had been staring out of his bedroom window at the rear of the shop, not really taking in the view of the back garden where he could see the large vegetable patch religiously tended by Marjorie, a few hardy vegetable plants already sprouting in response to the warmer spring weather. The conversation with Bella last night had thrown his spirits into the doldrums. There seemed no way back from the place at which he and Bella had arrived having wandered there as if blindfolded by their conflicting emotions. He felt as if he'd lost all sense of direction. He had truly never expected Bella's response to be so sudden and final and had been unprepared for what had transpired.

He knew that travelling abroad was something out of the ordinary for a young man from a humble background with limited means and that his parents might struggle to understand his need to go out and explore the world. In their eyes he was already having an adventure. They sometimes talked about his National Service as if it were a kind of extended holiday. In truth, as much as he enjoyed the camaraderie of his fellow conscripts and found them to be a reasonable bunch on the whole, they were not companions of his choice and much of what he did on a day to day basis was mind-numbingly boring and repetitive. He didn't mind doing his bit but he knew that military life would never be a long-term career choice. More and more he had begun to see life running Stimpson's General Stores as something akin to his National Service only instead of two years he was contemplating the rest of his life. He loved his parents and was grateful for everything they had given him but he wanted a little more from life, at least for a while.

The moment Robert called to him Tom's heart leapt at the thought that Bella had come to find him. Perhaps she'd had a change of mind. It could be the only reason. She must be regretting her words. He knew that she wasn't happy and deep down that she loved him. He turned away from the window, glanced in the mirror on the wall and ran his fingers through his hair trying to comb a few wayward strands into place. He hoped he didn't look like as tired as he felt. He had slept fitfully, frequently waking and remembering that final look Bella had given him before he left Greystones. If it were possible for someone to haunt your dreams she had surely done so.

He bounded down the stairs eager to greet Bella and paused for a second to take a deep breath before pushing aside the curtain across the door that separated the shop from the Stimpson's private accommodation.

Hattie Tyler, smartly dressed and immaculately made up was standing at the counter and turned to look at Tom the moment he stepped into the shop, a dazzling smile upon her face,

"Hello Tom . Here I am turning up like a bad penny."

The stab of disappointment was hard to mask but for the sake of politeness Tom fought to control himself and gained the impression that Hattie hadn't noticed.

"Hello Hattie," the forced cheerfulness in his voice was so marked that Robert glanced at his son in surprise. Thankfully, Hattie knew him too little to realise the truth and seemed delighted at his enthusiastic response.

Tom was still standing near the door at the back of the shop and Hattie glided around the counter to draw nearer to him.

"Well, I said I might catch you and here I am," she simpered.

"Yes, so you are," Tom replied, still too disappointed to think of any conversation and there was an awkward moment of silence before Hattie continued,

"I've come down to have a look around and I thought to myself who better to show me the sights than the man who knows most people around here."

The penny dropped. From Hattie's engaging smile and appearance, clearly designed to impress, Tom came to the uncomfortable realisation that she was throwing her cap at him. His heart sank. The last thing he wanted was flirty attention from a girl he barely knew when his mind was still full of another.

"Well, what do you say, Tom?" Hattie was standing in front of him, head on one side adopting a coquettish look he'd seen posed by a few actresses in magazine photographs. No doubt she'd been reading the same magazines and practised the look in the mirror he thought. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of his father, ostensibly writing in the sales ledger, but clearly with an ear on the conversation. He could guess Robert's thoughts right now, particularly after the conversation in the shop only yesterday.

"I don't know, Hattie, I've got some errands to run," he sounded unconvincing and he knew it. What was more, Hattie took his lame excuse as a perfect opportunity to suggest joining him.

"That'll be great. I'll go with you."

Tom looked to Robert for help but his father merely inclined his head as if to say, 'do as you wish'. Against his better judgment, Tom relented, "Alright, I'll show you round if you like."

Hattie looked pleased, "Thanks Tom. It's really good of you."

"When do you want to go? " he asked with very little enthusiasm.

Hattie beamed, "No time like the present, if you're free," she hesitated for a moment as if considering something else. "Is there much round here to see? Only I'm not a great walker and my feet are still hurting from yesterday."

Tom glanced down at Hattie's feet. She was wearing what looked like a new pair of black suede leather shoes that seemed unsuitable for anything more than a cursory walk round the village. He shook his head,

"Don't worry it won't take long."

X-X-X-X

"Where have Bella and Hattie gone?" Charles called to Molly through the open doorway of their bedroom. He had come home from the airfield at lunchtime to collect some paperwork about the airfield expansion from his study and found the rooms downstairs deserted. Bounding up the stairs two at a time he had discovered Molly standing in the bedroom and only half-dressed.

"Are you going out?" he asked and then unable to let the moment pass without mischief added, "Or were you waiting for your secret lover?"

Molly, turned around, eyes wide in mock alarm, "Oh no, you've found me out, except the only man who makes any regular appearance when you're not here is well past his seventieth birthday." She grinned at him and winked, "You know how I'm partial to an older man."

Charles knew she was joking about Ted Chadwick who called in most weeks to give her some help and advice on the garden but he crossed the room towards her and coming up behind her slipped his arms around her waist. She leaned her head back against him and he bent his head to nuzzle her neck murmuring, "Should I be jealous?" Molly giggled as much from the idea of herself and Ted Chadwick having a secret love tryst in the shrubbery as the fluttering sensation of Charles' kisses on her neck,

"Don't be daft. Anyway, you _are_ an older man."

She turned around to look at him taking in everything she loved about that handsome, familiar face, his dark brown eyes fixed upon her.

He pretended to be serious, "I think the word is mature, Molly."

She laughed, "Have it your own way but do you think you're mature enough to look after Eddie and Rose this afternoon for a little bit. They're having a nap at the moment but I'm due at the WI at two o'clock."

Charles looked surprised, "Are you going back there? I thought you couldn't stand being anywhere near Lady Wilton."

Molly grimaced and stepped away from him, "I'm not going to be forced out of anywhere because of her. Besides, I feel better after yesterday." The memory of getting her own back with the low level pass over Cookham Grange had made her smile to herself more than once particularly the sight of Lady Wilton, bent double with her handbag over her head.

Charles shook his head, "Least said about that the better but try not to do anything controversial while you're out."

"So you will look after Eddie and Rose, then?" Molly asked again.

Charles grimaced "I suppose I could, for an hour or so, but won't Bella be back or failing that perhaps Hattie would like to help out, especially as she foisted herself on us entirely unannounced." Molly was under no illusion about Charles' feelings on the subject of Hattie's unexpected appearance. He had whispered to her when they were in bed last night that he wasn't convinced that she was here just for a social visit.

Molly sighed, "To answer your question Bella has gone out and Hattie too, but I don't know where or when they'll be back or I'd be asking them to help. Anyway, you do want to be a modern husband don't you, Charles? You wouldn't want to spoil Miss Parkhurst's high opinion of you would you? I'd hate for her to find out that she's harbouring an illusion about you, should it slip into conversation one day that you thought looking after your children wasn't a man's job."

Molly grinned at him and Charles rolled his eyes and told himself that he had fallen into that trap.

"Alright, but don't gossip too long over the Victoria sponge or I'll be forced to turn up and demand that you return at once to fulfil your wifely duties."

Molly laughed and turning away from him crossed to the wardrobe. She rifled through the garments hanging there before finding a green dress and stepping into it. She pulled it up until it had reached her shoulders but hung loosely open at the back, "Button me up, won't you, Charles," she called, slowly turning her head to glance over her right shoulder at him.

Taken by the enticing sight of his wife giving him what amounted to, in his eyes, a 'come hither' look Charles laughed and lunging forward and grasping her at the waist turned her around to face him, whispering, "In a minute or maybe two…"

X-X-X-X

"And I thought the view from Hester Rise was good," Bella gasped in astonishment.

"It's impressive, isn't it?" Peter Wilton called, approaching her from behind. He tapped her lightly on her left shoulder, "Look over there."

He raised his hand and pointed to her left and she took in the magnificent view of the River Wye, some five hundred feet below the highest point of the sheer rock face on which they standing, as it meandered on its journey south toward Chepstow and the Severn Estuary.

"What's this place called?" Bella asked.

"Symonds Yat," Peter replied watching Bella and appreciating the way her eyes seemed to light up as she took in the beauty of the landscape.

"Funny name," Bella observed, wrinkling her nose as she spoke.

"Well, Yat is an old word meaning gate or possibly gorge and the Symonds part dates from the seventeenth century and is named after the High Sheriff of Herefordshire whose family owned the land around here."

Bella was amused by the professorial tone of Peter's voice and couldn't help smirking.

"What's funny?" he asked.

Without looking at him Bella replied, "You sound like one of your teacher's at Oxford or something. You like History do you?"

"Sorry, didn't mean to lecture but believe it or not, I do like History."

Bella turned to him, "Is that what you're studying then? At university I mean."

He nodded, "Some of the time."

"And the rest of the time?" Bella enquired.

"Well, you know what they say. All work and no play makes Peter a very dull boy indeed." He stepped a little closer to her, "And I really wouldn't want you to find me dull."

Bella neatly side-stepped him, "Not much chance of that is there."

Peter said nothing. She was too good at reading his mind and intentions. He smiled and offering her a hand to lead her down across the uneven rocky ground declared, "It's lunchtime, shall we go and eat?"

The Saracen's Head was not Bella's idea of a picnic. As picturesque as the scene before her was, the old inn close to the water's edge overlooking the ancient hand pulled river ferry crossing, she had expected something more traditional from an invitation to a picnic. However, she wasn't sorry to be sitting in the saloon bar in the company of a few other visitors, some wearing stout walking boots and shoes and carrying haversacks, clearly enjoying the fine weather and the glorious walks around the Forest of Dean. Despite the fact that Peter had behaved impeccably all the way here in the car and kept up a polite flow of friendly conversation, those last moments at the viewpoint had raised a doubt in Bella's mind and once or twice during their lunch she had been afraid he might reach out to hold her hand or do something else that would make her feel awkward. As it was, once they had eaten their ploughman's lunch and had a drink, a beer for him and a half of cider for her, the conversation had faltered and she found him gazing at her in a way that brought on a return of the uncomfortable feelings. She tried to banish them by saying, "Tell me about History then. Why do you like it?"

Peter laughed aloud throwing back his head and attracting the notice of a several people nearby, "That's brilliant, Bella."

Bella was confused, "What have I said?"

" _Tell me about history,_ " he quoted, "It's almost akin to saying what's the meaning of life? How long have you got?"

Bella turned away unamused by the fact that he was laughing at her attempt to ask a serious question. Catching the expression on her face however he stopped laughing, "I'm sorry. You wanted to know what interests me."

She nodded. "Yes, you don't seem like the sort of chap who would be mad about history. Why did you decide to study it?"

Peter sat back in his chair and gave her a long look, "Oh, you'd be surprised," there was almost a hint of sarcasm in his voice, "The Wilton's are very keen on history but if you really want to know, I suppose my interest truly began with a mad German Professor."

X-X-X-X

"Is that it?" Hattie said, making no attempt to hide her disappointment. The tour of Nethercombe had lived up to Tom's promise of being short in duration and afforded little to excite her interest or offer any entertainment beyond the dubious charms of The Poppy Tearooms where a few elderly residents were enjoying a gossip over a light lunch of Welsh Rarebit. Having finished the guided tour, Tom and Hattie were sitting on a bench in the churchyard of St Mary's contemplating the view of the Village Green beyond.

Tom shrugged in response to Hattie's enquiry about the limitations of the Nethercombe social scene, "Pretty much, I suppose."

"Anyone under thirty must be bored to death," Hattie exclaimed. "I thought Ipswich was dull, but there's nothing here."

Tom felt slightly put-out by Hattie's response. Having asked him to show her around he didn't think it was too much to show a little appreciation of the area. It might not have everything a large town or city had to offer but it was still his home.

"We do have dances sometimes and there's the Young Farmers and the Cricket Club," he said trying not to sound too defensive.

Hattie stared at him, her eyes wide and incredulous at this knowledge and clearly unimpressed by entertainment dependent upon the local economy and sport. Tom was struck by the difference in the first impressions of Bella and Hattie to the delights of Nethercombe. Bella, a city girl by birth, had confounded his expectations and shown a real love and appreciation of the countryside. He was even more painfully aware of how comfortable she felt here having settled into her life so well that she had been prepared to work for his parents and wait two years for him to return. By contrast, Hattie seemed to think she had landed on another planet in which no young person could possibly find anything to enjoy or entertain them.

Hattie gave Tom a sidelong glance. She noticed that he was staring ahead and seemed to be lost in thought, "Penny for them."

Tom looked down at her, "I was just thinking how different this must seem to you after living in a large place like Ipswich."

Hattie nodded, "Well, you're not wrong there but I didn't always live in Ipswich. Me and my mum have only been there about two years, before that it was Cambridge and then Peterborough. We just went wherever mum could get a job and find somewhere she could afford to rent. Mind you, I lived in a lot of places when I was with my Dad. We were always having to move, mostly because the coppers were after him. When I first met Molly in the war we were living in a small place in the country but that was just before Dad ran off and left me and then he died although that was after I'd gone into the Children's Home."

Tom was surprised, "I'm sorry to hear that."

Hattie shrugged, "Well, to be honest he wasn't the best father in the world and the Children's Home wasn't that bad as it turned out."

Tom was confused, "But you said you were living with your mum."

Hattie nodded, "Yes. After Dad died Molly went and found her for me and after about a year they let me go and live with her."

"You must have been happy to be with her again, then," Tom observed.

Hattie smiled, "She's alright, I suppose."

"It's a shame she didn't come with you. I expect Molly would have liked to see her again," Tom commented.

Hattie said nothing in reply but looked around her as if seeking some other source of conversation and then suddenly exclaimed, "Isn't that Molly over there?"

Tom glanced in the direction Hattie was pointing across the Village Green and seeing Molly emerging from the shop together with his mother remembered something he had heard over breakfast that morning, "She's going to the WI meeting with my mother. " He turned to look at Hattie, "I forgot to mention the Women's Institute. That's what any woman over the age of thirty does for entertainment round here."

Hattie laughed, "Oh crikey, what on earth was I thinking coming here?"

Tom looked down at her, dressed up to the nines despite being in a sleepy little village like Nethercombe, turning up unannounced to visit someone she hadn't seen for years and, as he recalled from their conversation last night, carrying an extraordinarily heavy suitcase that she had said contained almost everything she owned. He was curious, "What did make you come here, Hattie?"


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

"I don't suppose you know anything about a thoroughly irresponsible pilot who flew one of your aircraft over our land yesterday, do you, Mrs James?"

The unexpected address from Lady Wilton as Molly and Marjorie left the Village Hall at the end of the W.I. meeting caused Molly to turn around in surprise. In spite of her bravado to Charles earlier she had secretly felt a few butterflies in her stomach as she entered the hall that afternoon. Predictably, Lady Wilton was already there thoroughly engrossed in a conversation with the President of the Institute and Marjorie had muttered under her breath, "Trying to butter her up, no doubt and get herself a seat on the committee." If she had seen Molly and Marjorie enter the hall Lady Wilton gave no indication and remained in conversation until the meeting began.

After the usual notices there was a discussion about the planned festivities for Easter which were to include the traditional Nethercombe Easter Procession through the village by members of the Institute. The President outlined the route that would be taken and expressed the hope that as many members as possible would participate wearing their Easter bonnets before the parade concluded at the Village Hall where sandwiches, tea and simnel cake would be served. Molly had heard mention of the procession before but hadn't witnessed it having been too busy with the twins last year to pay much attention to village's Easter activities. The thought of having to spend a lot of time making a hat to parade around in front of her neighbours didn't fill her with enthusiasm and she was also struck by the thought that it didn't sound like much fun for anyone else. When the President asked if anyone had anything more they wished to contribute she couldn't help raising her hand and after being invited to speak she stood up and said, "What about doing something for the children of the village?"

The President, Miss Morrison, the retired headmistress of Westfield Hall, a local girl's boarding school situated three miles beyond Nethercombe, regarded Molly over the top of her spectacles with a furrowed brow she had previously reserved for errant schoolgirls sent to her study to confess their misdemeanours, "Could you elaborate on your suggestion, Mrs James?"

Molly hadn't given the matter much thought having supposed that by raising the issue it would encourage others to put forward their suggestions. Instead she saw every pair of eyes in the room turned upon her and noticed in particular the incredulous look on Lady Wilton's face. She wondered briefly if she had committed a cardinal sin by making a suggestion but, determined not to seem indecisive, she cast her mind about wildly for an idea and remembering something she had read in one of Bella's magazines said, "How about an Easter Egg Hunt?"

There was silence for a moment and one or two of the members seemed to be looking in Miss Morrison's direction almost as if seeking guidance as to whether this was considered to be a good idea to support. Miss Morrison reserved her own opinion and cast the idea open to the other members for their views. Almost immediately, Lady Wilton rose to her feet.

"In my opinion, such events usually descend into an undignified and disorganised melee allowing the greediest children to gorge themselves. I speak with the experience of the Christmas Party in mind."

Molly noticed one or two of the ladies nearest to Lady Wilton nodding in agreement. She was astonished at the response and spoke almost without thinking, "What do you mean by an undignified melee? They're children. Isn't it supposed to be fun?"

Lady Wilton adopted an almost pained expression when she looked at Molly and replied, "I think the Nethercombe members here have more experience in these matters, Mrs James."

No one else spoke even Marjorie seemed anxious and Molly had the distinct impression that now that Lady Wilton had given her view no one else would dare to oppose her.

"So that's it, then?"

Miss Morrison addressed Molly, "Thank you for that suggestion, Mrs James, but it seems as if we will stand by our traditional arrangements this year." The tone of her voice left Molly in no doubt that she had been dismissed and she sat down feeling annoyed that Lady Wilton's obvious dislike of her had been her motivation in preventing Molly's idea being debated.

With all discussion being at an end it was time for the guest speaker, a short, stout, amply-bosomed lady, firmly shoe-horned into a tweed jacket and skirt, to address the meeting on the subject of Spring Cleaning. She offered many handy tips to make the job easy and stress free and concluded with the assurance that "Any husband will be delighted to find his home fresh, clean, sparkling and ready for him to relax at the end of a hard day's work." Molly, in spite of her irritation, had glanced sideways at Marjorie to see if she was amused by the idea that spring cleaning should solely be undertaken to aid the comfort and felicity of her husband. Recalling all the times she had come home from the airfield after a long day spent up to her elbows in the engine of a Tiger Moth, hands and fingernails grimy and blackened by oil and grease, smudges across her face and her hair tangled and dirty, Molly had struggled not to snigger. Far from being horrified by the domestic disorder in the house, Charles had considered Molly's grubby appearance to be a great excuse to help her wash it all off in the bath giving little notice or care for the grimy state in which the bath tub was left afterwards. If Marjorie thought the guest speaker's comment ridiculous she managed to maintain a straight face although the moment they had broken for tea and cake she remarked, "I'm glad my Robert's not here. I wouldn't want him getting any ideas about the housework. I don't think I could live up to those exacting standards."

Lady Wilton had studiously avoided any further contact with Molly and with the meeting over and the tea and cake consumed, Molly and Marjorie had been in the process of leaving before Lady Wilton caught up with them. As Molly turned to face her in the wake of her address about the reckless pilot she could tell that the older woman was suspicious. She was taller than Molly and held herself with almost military bearing. Someone with lesser spirit might have been intimidated by Lady Wilton's rank in life and physical presence but Molly, recalling the rather undignified manner in which the lady had sought to protect herself yesterday, found that she felt quite equal to responding to Lady Wilton's enquiry about the low level flying.

"My husband mentioned that Sir Percival called him about it," Molly answered, deciding to play for time and waiting to see where the conversation would lead, all the while conscious that beside her Marjorie was struggling to maintain an air of innocence.

"He most certainly did, " Lady Wilton retorted. "Your husband should count himself lucky that Sir Percival chose not report the matter to the Police. I have to confess that I am surprised that someone of your husband's experience and situation in life would allow a pupil to behave in such a manner."

Molly suddenly realised that the blame for her actions was being laid at Charles' door and that in covering for her he had taken the brunt of the Wilton's anger on her behalf.

"I'm sure the pilot's actions were due to poor judgment and Charles' would have done everything he could to stop them and I know that he gave the pilot a real telling off for what happened. But at the end of the day there wasn't any harm done was there."

Lady Wilton stared at her but Molly stood her ground and returned the look maintaining as neutral an expression as possible. Lady Wilton seemed to be weighing up whether to say anything more on the subject but finally resolved upon saying in a brusque, irritated fashion, "Well, I think your husband was left in no doubt as to our feelings on the matter."

Molly nodded, "Oh yes, he certainly knows what you think about it."

Lady Wilton merely inclined her head by the merest fraction and uttered in a crisp, clipped tone, "Good day."

Molly and Marjorie watched Lady Wilton march out of the hall and made sure that the Village Hall door had shut firmly behind her before turning to regard each other. Marjorie looked sheepish but nevertheless amused by the exchange but Molly was thoughtful. She didn't like Charles being blamed for her mistakes.

"Cheer up Molly," Marjorie cajoled her, "she deserved it. Wish I'd got a photo of her, yesterday."

Molly turned to her friend in surprise, "Blimey Marjorie, you're not exactly bowing and scraping to your betters are you?"

Marjorie shrugged and grinned, "Must be your influence, Molly."

Molly shook her head, "You don't want to pay too much attention to me. I've got a habit of putting my foot in it. Charles knows about our little escapade but he didn't let on."

Marjorie raised her eyebrows, "I see. Have you had a row about it?"

Molly shook her head, "No, not really."

She remembered the cross words from Charles but it hadn't lasted long and she'd made it up to him later. It hadn't been necessary, of course, because on this occasion like so many others he had forgiven her pretty quickly but, she thought with a sigh, he must be getting tired of her doing things like this. She gave a rueful smile, "He's used to me messing things up."

Molly pushed open the door of the Village Hall and they stepped outside in time to see Lady Wilton's car driving away. They watched it crawl past the Village Green and turn left heading onto the Cookham road before Marjorie turned to Molly, "I told you the W.I. could do with a bit of a shake up and I meant it. People like Lady Wilton and some of the others in there, even Miss Morrison, like things to just stay the way they've always been but the world's changing."

Molly thought of the way her idea of doing something for the children of the village had been dismissed and also the how the Wilton's continued to complain about the airfield and deny the need for progress even if it brought business and jobs to the area. Marjorie was right; the world was changing and why couldn't they try something new. However for once in her life before acting rashly, she told herself that she would talk to Charles. She turned to her friend, a determined glint in her eye, "Do you know, Marjorie. It seems to me the W.I. aren't the only ones who are entitled to organise things around here. I don't see why we shouldn't do something different if we want to."

X-X-X-X

Charles heard the front door open and close and called out from the kitchen, "In here," expecting Molly to appear in the doorway. He had brought Edward and Rose downstairs after their nap and sat them in their highchairs with some bread and jam to eat. They seemed to be in a good mood and Charles had been delighted by the smiles that had greeted him when he had gazed into their cots after they had woken. He didn't pretend to be heavily involved in the day to day care of his children no matter what Miss Parkhurst might think but he considered himself capable of looking after his son and daughter for a couple of hours even if it hadn't been planned. In truth he had expected that Bella would return within a short time and was surprised that almost two hours later he was still waiting for someone else to come home so that he could make his excuses and go back to the airfield.

He heard footsteps approaching and looked up to see Hattie coming into the kitchen.

"Hello," she called brightly as if she had lived here all her life.

"Hello, Hattie," Charles replied, "Have you had a good afternoon?" The enquiry came from the automatic politeness instilled in him since a child but there was also a small degree of curiosity as to how she had been passing her time.

Hattie pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat down, "Alright. I called in at the shop and that chap, Tom, took me on a tour of the village."

"That was good of him, " Charles observed bending over Rose to encourage her to eat some more of her tea, "but he's always been very kind especially to Bella"

Hattie looked surprised, "Why Bella?"

Charles looked up at her, "Oh, didn't she say? She and Tom have been courting for nearly two years." If Hattie was disappointed she tried very hard to hide it and Charles saw only the slightest flicker of emotion on her face which he mistook for interest.

"My feet are killing me," Hattie remarked looking down and slipping off the black suede leather shoes which were grimy with mud from the lane. "There aren't many buses round here are there?"

Charles raised his eyebrows, "I suppose not, but it depends what you're used to. I imagine your life in Ipswich is a lot busier than here."

Hattie shrugged and said nothing and Charles remembering her comments last night, particularly the one about her job couldn't help saying, "I suppose you'll have to get back soon."

Hattie shook her head, "Not especially."

"But surely you have to go back to work and your mother must miss you," Charles countered.

Hattie rolled her eyes, "My job's sort of casual if you know what I mean and as for mum, well she's got plenty of company with Harry so she won't be too bothered about me."

The news about Hattie's job being something less than permanent didn't surprise Charles. He and Bella had been suspicious about the very generous-natured employer Hattie had described and he was pretty sure now that she didn't have a job at all. As for her comments about Violet and her beau she might well be right but he couldn't help asking one more question, "How long did you tell your mother you'd be away?"

Hattie stared at him her eyes slightly narrowed and suspicious of his question, "Why do you ask?"

It was Charles' turn to be wrong-footed and he hesitated before saying, "I wouldn't want her to worry. You could always telephone her if you like."

Hattie shook her head, "We haven't got a telephone. Anyway, mum won't be worried." She got up hastily, "Shall I make us a cuppa?"

Charles nodded his thanks and turned back to Edward and Rose feeling even more suspicious. Hattie didn't have a job and she was being evasive about how long she planned to stay. He watched her move over to the kitchen sink and turn on the tap. The inconsistent pressure caused a sudden jet of water to spray at her for a second or two, splashing both her dress and the floor before settling back to a trickle. She moved across the kitchen to place the filled kettle on the hob to boil. As she returned and passed Charles she slipped on the damp flag-stoned floor, losing her footing with a squeal of surprise. Charles instinctively shot out a hand to grasp her upper arm and steady her. The loud cry of pain from Hattie shocked him.

"I'm sorry. Are you alright?"

Hattie was clearly flustered, "Yes, 'course." She rubbed her arm and turned away from him opening the cupboard to find cups and saucers. When she turned back a few seconds later she had recomposed herself but Charles was still concerned.

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

She shook her head, "You didn't, I was just surprised to slip that's all." She looked across at Edward and Rose, "They're a lucky pair, aren't they, what with you and Molly for their mum and dad and living here even if nothing much happens."

Charles remembered Hattie's comments about the lack of entertainment in Ipswich and said mildly, "You sound a little disappointed in Nethercombe, Hattie, after Tom so kindly showed you the sights. I wouldn't have thought it was the best place for someone seeking excitement."

"P'raps not," she agreed, "But it'll do."

The kettle was boiling and Hattie busied herself making tea for them both. By the time she brought the cups to the table, Charles was wiping Edward and Rose's faces with a damp cloth and they were wriggling in their high chairs and showing signs of wanting to get down and toddle around. Charles drank the tea and looked at Hattie. Something didn't make sense about her sudden appearance in their lives again and he was torn between playing the amiable host and asking her outright why she was here. He didn't want to upset Molly but his instincts told him there was more to her arrival than met the eye. He drained the last of his tea, placed the cup back on the saucer and took a deep breath,

"Hattie, how long are you planning on staying?"

X-X-X-X

Peter brought the car to a stop on the grass verge fifty yards from the entrance to Greystones, switched off the engine and sat back in the driver's seat reaching his arm across the back of the seats towards Bella on his left. It was almost five o'clock and the sunshine of earlier that afternoon had given way to a chill spring breeze. Bella stayed in the car. She turned her head to the right, her eyes glancing at Peter's hand very close to her shoulder and pursed her lips. Peter seeing her expression started to laugh.

"You don't trust me do you, even after spending the whole day with me."

Bella, chastened by his words merely said, "Sorry."

It was true that Peter had continued to be the perfect gentleman during the afternoon when they had taken a trip across the River Wye on the ancient ferry and gone for a stroll through the woods. He had walked alongside her, hands in his pockets and told her about himself and his life. He had been good company and able to recount many amusing and entertaining stories to pass the time and even if the occasional moment of supreme confidence in his own abilities surfaced he was able to dismiss it with some self-deprecating remark that somehow made it seem acceptable. Bella had set out that morning with a degree of trepidation and even if there had been moments when she had been all too conscious of Peter's admiration for her, having arrived safely back in Nethercombe she could reflect on having had a pleasant day.

"You know, a gentleman really should take a lady to her door," Peter remarked.

Bella shrugged, "I think it's better this way."

Peter smiled and leaned a little nearer to her, "Anyone would think you're ashamed of me."

Bella took a deep breath, "I don't know what you mean."

He cleared his throat, "Well, you're wary aren't you? Has someone said something about me?"

Tom's words of warning immediately sprang to mind but Bella tried to sound convincing when she replied, "Of course not."

Peter laughed again, "Now I know you're not being honest."

Bella turned to look at him. She could see a hint of exasperation in his expression and thought honesty would be the best policy, "Alright, someone did say something but you said we'd be friends and that's what we've been today haven't we?"

Peter sighed, "I can guess what was said and by whom. Don't believe everything you hear, Bella."

His voice was serious and Bella detected a hint of sadness. It was true that she'd somewhat recklessly decided to meet Peter that morning out of frustration over Tom's attitude and annoyance at Hattie's presence and as much as she'd tried to dismiss them, Tom's warnings had bothered her all day. Everything Peter had said and done had been viewed by her in the light of those words when the reality was that she'd had a very nice day out with a polite, well-mannered young man. She shouldn't have let Tom's jealousy prejudice her. Peter might have started out on the wrong foot at the Young Farmer's Dance but since then he had behaved well. She smiled at him,

"I've enjoyed today. Thank you."

He gazed back at her, "So have I. Would it be too much for a friend to give you a kiss on the cheek?"

Bella anxious to assure him and not to seem churlish nodded, "Of course it would be alright."

He slowly leaned towards her, his arm on the back of the seats inching ever nearer and as his face drew level with hers, she was acutely aware of the scent of his cologne mixed with the scent of him, the warmth of his skin next to hers and the gentle pressure of his lips against her cheek.

He drew back a little, his face still close to hers, his lips just inches away from her own. They were so close that he could feel her breath on his face. She hadn't moved and he knew it would be so easy to just lean in now and kiss her as every fibre of his being was urging him to do, to simply take everything that was promised there as she waited, still and compliant. However, he knew it wouldn't be enough and she mattered to him more than any other woman he had met for a very long time. He fought his inclinations and sat back in his seat, secretly frustrated but true to his word.

"Good evening, Bella."

"Goodbye, Peter." She reached for the door handle but remembering himself in time he got out of the car and swiftly moved around to the passenger side to open the door for her. She got out and standing near him seemed to linger for a moment as if she wanted to say something else before she left but couldn't think of anything. In the end she whispered, "I did have a nice time." She reached out and touched him lightly on his arm, "Thanks again."

He watched her walk away and told himself he'd done the right thing. However much he wanted to go after her right now, pull her into his arms and satisfy every yearning sensation he was feeling, he knew he was doing the right thing. Bella Dawes was not a woman to be trifled with. He had been accused of quite a few things in the last few years and some of them were even true but he knew that Bella was not a short-lived fling and he had no intention of jeopardising what might be. He watched her turn into Greystones and then got back into the car, started up the engine and drove away.

X-X-X-X

Standing in the gloomy clump of fir trees at the end of Greystones drive hidden from the view of any passer-by, Hattie was seeking refuge from her encounter with Charles. She was bothered by his questions and bothered by the inference that she wasn't welcome here. She had been counting on Nethercombe. She knew Charles was fishing for information and his last question concerning the proposed length of her visit had put her on the spot. She had never been more grateful to hear a restless young child screech at the top of her voice and drag Charles' attention away to deal with his daughter. She hadn't really liked the babies and toddlers in the Children's Home during the war but today she could have kissed Rose. No sooner had Charles stood up to attend to Rose then Hattie had slipped away muttering something vague about needing to do something. She had quietly left the house and meant to stay out of the way until someone else came back but she didn't want Charles to see her and after reaching the end of the drive headed into the clump of trees to shelter from the wind.

She leant back against the tree and winced as the bruises on her spine made contact with the uneven bark. Damn, that had been close earlier with Charles. She rubbed her arm again where Charles had grasped her and gazed heavenwards. She needed to stay here if only for a while and she needed someone on her side or Charles would work on Molly and she'd end up having to leave. She pondered her situation for a while; it wasn't good. Even Tom had asked her why she was here. However, he'd been easy to deal with. Her gratitude to Molly and wish to see her again coupled with the sadness of her story appealed to someone with such a kind heart as Tom. Someone who had grown up with loving parents and had a happy settled childhood could easily sympathise with her gratitude towards Molly for finding her mother again. She liked Tom and had to confess she'd been disappointed to hear that he was sweet on Bella. Bella seemed as wary of her as Charles and certainly not the friendly ally that Hattie had been hoping for. She'd seen the look on Bella's face when she'd mentioned them being like sisters and could tell she had no intention of entertaining such a notion. It was alright for Bella with a large family and a big sister who'd done well for herself not to mention a wonderful boyfriend but Hattie had grown up without much and her life had descended into something even less as time had gone by. Was it any wonder she'd ended up in this mess.

Her attention was caught by the sound of a car approaching but stopping some distance short of the drive. Instinctively she crept forward her heart pounding and carefully peered up the road taking care to stay out of sight. A small black Austin was parked fifty yards or so along the lane and two people were sitting in the front; a man and a woman. The woman was Bella. They appeared to be talking and Hattie watched them wondering why Bella was sitting in the car with this man. She had gone out this morning without saying where she was going and Hattie was curious. After a short while the man leaned across and kissed Bella and stayed close to her for a few seconds. Hattie held her breath until the man sat back again and then got out of the car to open the door for Bella. Hattie could see he was tall, handsome and well-dressed and it was obvious to her that they were very close. Bella stood next to him and touched him on the arm, an affectionate gesture in response to something he had said or done and then started to walk towards Greystones.

Hattie shrank back into the shadows of the tree and kept out of sight. She heard the car start up and drive away and then glimpsed Bella turn into the drive on her way to the house her feet crunching on the gravel as she passed.

It was clear to Hattie that Bella didn't want anyone to know about this man. Why else would she ask him to drop her off in the lane? Hattie knew well enough how useful information could be. She wouldn't tell anyone what she had seen, at least not yet. However, what was also obvious to her was that if Bella was playing fast and loose with Tom's feelings by hanging around with another man, Tom might need a shoulder to cry on and she was determined that no shoulder would fit the bill better than her own.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Charles put down the telephone receiver and stared through the office window out onto the airfield. A light aircraft had just landed and taxied over to the hangar. He recognised the pilot, Michael Stafford, a local businessman, amateur pilot and member of the ATA during the war. He liked to entertain important customers with a pleasure flight from time to time or take a trip over to France for the weekend. He at least was supportive of the planned airfield expansion, seeing the benefits for the area unlike the Council Planning Committee. Charles had been disappointed but not surprised to hear that his initial application had met with opposition and further queries had been raised. Richard had just phoned through the news and added that, "Gerald's not too pleased. He thinks we could have done more to oil the wheels."

Charles, under the impression that Gerald Harker had never met Sir Percival Wilton, remarked that, "He's welcome to come down here and wield the oil can anytime he wishes." Richard laughed but Charles could tell that he was exasperated too. Sir Percival's campaign to prevent the airfield expansion showed no signs of abating anytime soon. It seemed as if he had been out and about spreading news of the plans in the neighbourhood and putting his personal views across to anyone of influence who would listen albeit in the most subtle fashion possible; a quiet drink with the President of the local Business Guild, dinner with the local member of parliament or casual conversation with some of the Gentleman farmers who frequented the Golf Club. If only Charles could find some way of placating the man which stopped short of giving up the airfield altogether. He thought briefly of the plans Molly had discussed with him the other day and hoped that the Nethercombe Easter Egg Hunt on Easter Monday would not be seen as part of another challenge to the established order.

Molly had come to him a few days ago after the W.I. Meeting and told him about her idea. She and Marjorie had gone back to the Stimpson's house after the meeting and formed their plans. Robert had offered to supply some sweets and they had decided to decorate and paint egg shells and hide them around the Village Green on Sunday evening ready for the big hunt the following morning. Every child who found an egg would receive some sweets in return from Stimpson's. Marjorie agreed to produce some posters to display in the shop, at the school and in the Village Hall and all that had remained was to organise themselves for the big day.

Molly had caught Charles later that evening when the children were soundly asleep upstairs. Bella was in the kitchen cleaning a pair of black suede shoes and seemingly in a bad mood at the state she had found them in the bottom of her wardrobe earlier in the evening. She had muttered something about Hattie but Molly had been too pre-occupied with her own thoughts to pay attention to petty complaints. Hattie it seemed had gone upstairs. It had been after nine o'clock and Charles had been sitting in the lounge listening to the wireless and laughing at _Take it From Here_ when Molly came in and sat down on the sofa near him. Charles glanced at her and saw that she was watching him, clearly waiting for a moment to talk and he caught her eye,

"Penny for them."

"I wondered how you'd feel about me and Marjorie putting on an event for the children in the village on Easter Monday?"

Charles frowned, "You want to know how _I'd_ feel?" He shook his head, "How does it affect me?"

Molly bit her lip, "It doesn't really except for the fact that Lady Wilton don't like it."

In spite of his best efforts, his face fell at the news, "Do you have a strange compulsion to cause trouble with the Wiltons?" He tried to make his comment sound light hearted but he was aware that it was close to the truth and Molly might not receive it well.

The comment was not lost on Molly but she remembered the words of her friend, Jackie, all those years ago at RAF Milton, "Never trouble trouble until trouble troubles you."

Charles raised his eyebrows at the expression and she continued, "Well, that's just it, isn't it. Trouble has troubled me and I don't see why all this business with the airfield should let Lady Wilton and her cronies decide what the rest of us can do. I'm not trying to start a revolution, just organise a bit of fun for the children."

"So, are you asking me or telling me, Molly?" Somehow he already knew the answer.

She gazed at him sheepishly, "Both, I s'pose."

He hadn't tried to stop her. She couldn't make the situation over the airfield any worse and in his heart he also believed that she was right. He reflected that surely he had been fighting during the war for freedom and democracy and that included the right of one person he loved to do something different if she wished without having to conform to the will of other more influential people.

They had discussed her plans and he had made some suggestions and offered to help on the day. Looking at the happy, animated expression on her face he was pleased that she had shared her ideas with him and she appreciated his offer of help.

"Thanks, Charles. I wish I could help you with the airfield stuff."

Charles sighed and shook his head, "It's a mystery why the Wiltons are so annoyed about the airfield. I know it was located on what would have been good pasture land but they don't farm. As for the air traffic I gather it's been less since we took over the lease. If what other people are telling me is true, it was far busier during the war. It seems as if the fact that it wasn't returned is what irks them."

The door to the lounge, which had been slightly ajar, opened and Bella came into the room. She looked thoughtful but said, "Not interrupting anything, am I?"

Charles shook his head, "No, Bella, just pondering the problem of the airfield. Any suggestions?" Bella was silent and seemed to be thinking about the question before saying, "No, don't think so."

Molly looked at her sister, "What were you up to today? I know it was your day off but you disappeared really early and didn't come home 'till teatime."

Bella shrugged, "Nothing much. I went into Cirencester to do some shopping."

Charles recalled seeing Bella return at around five o'clock without any shopping bags, "Not very successful then."

Bella gazed at him, "Pardon."

"Your shopping," Charles continued, "You didn't get anything."

"No," Bella replied hastily, "I didn't see anything I wanted. Anyway, no point buying anything new or that Hattie will probably whip it from under my nose and wear it without asking. Did you see those shoes of mine she wore? Wet and covered in mud and after I asked her to take them off this morning. She's got a nerve."

Charles recalled the shoes Hattie had been wearing when she came into the Kitchen that afternoon and understood Bella's annoyance but Molly spoke up,

"She's never had a sister or anyone to share things with like us, Bella. Don't be too hard on her. I don't expect she meant any harm."

Bella and Charles exchanged glances. Charles could tell that Bella was fuming and biting her tongue but the expression on his face said, 'leave it'. He knew as well as Bella that Molly had a blind spot where Hattie was concerned, one borne out of a long-held guilt. Unfortunately, Hattie seemed all too aware of this and both he and Bella knew that she would play it out for as long as she could.

Looking out at the airfield three days later Charles found himself turning over the events of the last few days: the disastrous drinks party, the Wilton's animosity to the airfield, Bella's disagreement with Tom, Molly's struggles with the W.I. and Hattie's sudden appearance in their lives with all the waves that was making. His mind began to feel muddled. He needed some fresh air and getting up from his desk, made his way out on to the airfield. He strolled across to the hangar. Michael Stafford had taxied to a stop and was climbing down from the cockpit.

"Morning, Mike. How was the flight?"

Mike, an affable man with an oddly cherubic expression, now in his mid-fifties and growing more portly by the year, responded in his customary, enthusiastic manner, "Splendid. Nothing like an hour on your own. Just you, up there above the clouds. Really blows the cobwebs away."

Charles smiled. It was a long time since he had simply gone for a pleasure flight. Running the airfield and teaching pupils took up most of his time now. There had been a time after his final disastrous bombing mission during the war that he had thought he would be happy never to see the inside of a cockpit again but in time, working at the flight school, he had rediscovered the love of flying that had led him to a life in the RAF in the first place.

"You're right there, Mike. I could really do with putting in a few hours myself." He glanced upwards. It was a reasonable day with very little threat of rain and he felt the sudden pull of the open sky.

"Actually, there's no time like the present. I could really do with blowing a few of my own cobwebs away."

He shook hands with Mike and carried on his way into the hangar intent of finding Donald and getting Rosa ready for a flight.

X-X-X-X

During the three days since her day out with Peter Wilton, Bella had seen nothing more of him. He had told her during their time at Symonds Yat that he and his friend, Max, had been invited to stay with a mutual friend in Warwick for a few days and would be back by the weekend. At the time this news had not affected her in any particular manner but during the last few days she had felt an increasing restlessness. Life was proving very awkward indeed.

Bella was still going to work at the Stimpson's shop everyday but the atmosphere had become strained. Tom, still on leave, was either in and out of the shop attempting to hold a rather stilted conversation with her that caused his parents to glance back and forth at one another in confusion, or he gave her a wide berth altogether, taking solitary walks, going off to Cirencester on his own or heading to the Red Lion on the Cookham Road for a pint in the evening. She had been informed of the latter fact by Hattie who had slipped out two evening ago, ostensibly for a stroll but had informed Molly that on passing the Red Lion and feeling thirsty, she had popped in for a glass of lemonade and seen Tom there. Although Bella would never dream of going into a pub alone, she was not at all surprised that Hattie had done so and the fact that she repeated the walk and the drink the following day confirmed her belief that Hattie did nothing on a pure whim.

In the shop each day it was obvious to Robert and Marjorie that Tom and Bella were not on good terms but from Marjorie's friendly assertion to Bella that, "Everything will sort itself out, don't worry," Bella realised that Tom hadn't told his parents the truth, any more than Bella had confessed the truth to Molly and Charles. Just why neither of them had been able to admit to what had happened she didn't know but she had resolved to wait until Tom returned to the army before saying anything to his parents. He clearly hadn't said anything about his travel plans and she reasoned that It would make more sense to everyone to admit they had parted when he had gone.

The situation with Peter Wilton was awkward too. As much as she had enjoyed his company and the day with him had been pleasant she sensed his attraction to her and its effect upon her both surprised and worried her. He was everything that Tom was not and whether that was a good or bad thing she didn't yet know. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to see him or not but she knew that her current restlessness was somehow linked to him and that was a problem.

Bella had been in the hall a few nights ago and overheard the conversation about the airfield between Molly and Charles who were sitting in the lounge and it had thrown her into a quandary. Something Peter Wilton had mentioned to her that afternoon had taken on a new significance and she was immediately struck with the idea that she ought to go in and mention it to Charles, thinking that it might offer him a glimmer of explanation but she checked herself at the last minute. She couldn't say anything without telling Charles and Molly how she had come to know this information, where she had been that day and most awkwardly, with whom. Everything was still so raw with Tom that she just wasn't ready to tell them the truth and then face their disbelief. She didn't think that they would understand that she had spent the day with the son of the two people who were causing so much trouble for them and she wasn't ready to face the disapproval that must surely follow.

When Charles had asked her about the shopping she had managed to deflect the conversation by moaning about Hattie, not that she hadn't really been annoyed. When Bella had found her shoes earlier in the evening, Hattie had offered a small apology and said something about the heel of one of her shoes being broken and not being able to ask Bella because she had gone out. Bella didn't believe her.

During the past few days Hattie seemed to have grown in confidence and wormed her way into Molly s good books, being helpful around the house, joining in with the Easter Egg Hunt preparations and minding Edward and Rose, even though Bella had overheard her telling Edward to "Shut your cake hole, noisy," when he had started wailing because he couldn't find his Blankie. William seemed to have sided with Bella, resisting Hattie's suggestion that they take a walk down to the village which was probably just an excuse to seek out Tom. He had regarded her with suspicion and said he was busy reading his book. When Hattie asked him what he wanted to do that for when he'd read it before, he had looked at her as if she was mad and politely said "No, thank you." Charles seemed to share Bella's distrust of Hattie, confessing to her in a quiet moment that he was concerned that Hattie was angling to make herself a permanent fixture in the James household.

It seemed as if Hattie had given up all attempts to make friends with Bella. She kept out of her way as much as possible although every night they had to share a bedroom which Bella found particularly irritating especially as Hattie continued to borrow her things without asking and often left them in a less than acceptable state. Bella often wondered what she had brought with her in her suitcase because it remained resolutely locked under her bed and she never saw anything that Hattie had brought with her apart from a few items of clothing. She felt sure that Hattie was up to something and it concerned her.

However, something else had happened last night which made Bella even more wary. She had gone off to the bathroom leaving Hattie in the bedroom to get changed. After cleaning her teeth she reached for some face cream she had left in the bathroom cabinet and removing the lid discovered that the pot was empty. Knowing that she had only bought it last week and fuming at yet another example of Hattie s rudeness, Bella picked up the pot and marched back into the bedroom. She roughly pushed the door open without warning and demanded, "Have you used up all my face cream?"

She was met with the sight of Hattie partially undressed, standing with her back to her wearing only her bra and pants. Bella couldn't help herself. She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. Hattie s back was black and blue, covered in bruises, her upper arms too. Hattie swung around, grabbing her nightdress from the bed and holding it against her, leaving only her arms exposed.

"What do you want?" she said her voice rough and unsteady clearly caught unawares.

Bella waved the pot in front of her in a futile gesture, "This,,, but what happened to you?"

"Nothing," Hattie glared at her but the defensive response did nothing to curb Bella's curiosity.

"That aint nothing, Hattie." She stared at her. "How did that happen? Someone must have given you what for to look like that."

"It's none of your business," Hattie retorted, her face pale and teeth clenched, "And don't go saying anything to anyone about it." She looked her straight in the eye, "Everyone's got secrets haven't they. Even you."

Bella felt uneasy not only because it was clear that Hattie had something she wanted to hide but the inference that she knew something about Bella as well. She tried to ignore the last part and shaking her head said, "Fine, have it your own way."

She tossed the empty pot of cream into the waste paper bin and returned to the bathroom still shocked at what she had seen. She didn't see Hattie throw down her nightdress in annoyance before turning to take a look at herself in the wardrobe mirror. The mass of black and yellowing marks that covered her back would fade in time, she was sure of that, but would everything else simply disappear as well?

X-X-X-X

Charles had not set out with any flight plan in mind, informing Donald MacKenzie that he might be gone for a few hours and would put down for refuelling if necessary but with a full tank on board Rosa he knew that he had a range of nearly three hundred miles and felt a sudden surge of freedom and elation as he took off from Nethercombe Heath and climbed steadily above the land. The weather was fair, visibility good and he decided to fly east, picking out the familiar landmarks of the Gloucestershire countryside before venturing a little further into Oxfordshire and then beyond into Buckinghamshire and Hertfordshire. He had been in the air for a little over an hour when he realised that he was gazing down upon places he had last seen almost ten years ago from the Cockpit of C for Charlie. He knew these fields, the navigation landmarks, church spires, bends in the river, hills and forests like the back of his hand and to his surprise, far from being the unpleasant reminders of a difficult and desperate time in his life they felt familiar and comforting to him, a symbol that he had made it safely home again, just as they had all those years ago. With a start he realised he had reached Suffolk and a thought occurred to him. He had an idea that he knew most of the airfields in the area but he checked his map, direction and heading and plotted a course for a suitable landing strip a few miles to the east.

He landed safely and taxied over to the main buildings on the airfield. It was larger than Nethercombe Heath with two hangars for aircraft servicing and maintenance, a control tower, a few storage sheds and a small bar and café for visitors. After securing Rosa he made his way over to the control tower to speak to the Flight Controller, arrange for refuelling and pay his landing fees before taking advantage of the café to grab a cup of tea and warm himself up. Despite the mildness of the day on the ground, the air above was pretty cold and he was glad of the hot mug in his hand as his fingers began to thaw. The woman behind the counter, middle-aged, cheerful and under-employed in the almost deserted café engaged him in conversation.

"You're the pilot of that Tiger Moth aren't you?"

Charles nodded, "That's right."

"It's a bit on the chilly side in those open cockpits I'll bet. Have you come far?"

"Far enough," he smiled. "Gloucestershire."

He saw her frown in surprise, "What brought you out here, if you don't mind me asking?"

Charles shrugged, "Chance I think but I was stationed out this way during the war, so it's familiar territory."

He saw her eyebrows rise in interest at this last statement, "RAF?"

He nodded, "Yes, Bomber Command at RAF Milton."

"It was Lancasters there, wasn't it?" she enquired.

"That's right," Charles confirmed, "Do you know it?"

She shook her head, "Not me, but my husband, Gordon, was stationed nearby. Only he was ground crew, you know, ground maintenance."

Charles smiled, "So was my wife."

A few minutes later the man himself arrived, short, stocky and barrel-chested, dressed in overalls, the oil on his face and the stains on his clothes attesting to the fact that he was still working in maintenance. He leaned over the counter to speak to his wife and as she handed him over a mug of tea she pointed out Charles sitting at a table nearby. The man strolled over to Charles and introduced himself, "Gordon Davis, I'm Chief Mechanic here." He held out his grimy hand and Charles shook it gesturing for him to take a seat and join him. Gordon was keen to reminisce and Charles passed a pleasant quarter of an hour in conversation about their shared memories of being in the RAF before Charles asked him how well he knew the area and after learning that he was born and bred here asked if he could give him directions. After hearing the details, Gordon replied, "I can do better than that. I'll give you a lift if you like."

X-X-X-X

"Put that down. It's still wet" Marjorie scolded her son as Tom picked up one of the painted Easter Hunt eggs from the table, "Haven't you anything better to do?"

Tom reflected that there was nothing much better to entertain him here. This morning he had actually considered returning early from his leave. He'd been back almost a week and it had been a waste of his time, filled with upset. His only reason for staying was to keep his parents happy even though they knew something was wrong between him and Bella and the concerned looks on their faces whenever they saw either of them only made everything seem worse. He was about to say something when Robert came into the back room from the shop wearing an expression of mild irritation,

"She's here again," he paused and lowered his voice. "That Hattie and she's asking for you. You can tell me to mind my own business, son, but if I were you I'd tell her what's what. I don't think you should be hanging around with her. I shouldn't think Bella will like it, even if she is a special friend of Molly's."

Tom reflected that Hattie had chosen her moment well, waiting until Bella had left on her bicycle to make deliveries before coming into the shop.

"I don't ask her to come here," Tom replied.

"Maybe not," his father responded, "But you could make it a bit plainer that you're not interested, because she definitely is."

Tom was no fool. He knew Hattie was making a play in his direction. The first time he'd seen her in the Red Lion he'd assumed it was a coincidence and admired the way in which she had confidently walked into the quiet pub on her own, not the least bit intimidated in a bar frequented by the locals, and started chatting to the landlord. She was pretty and friendly and he could tell she was charming old Jack Williams. When she had glanced to her right and spotted Tom sitting alone at a table near the window he had thought her surprise genuine and not minded that she came over to sit and talk to him.

When he had shown her around the village and she'd told him about her difficult childhood and how grateful she was to Molly he had liked her better and felt a lot of sympathy for her. She was quite entertaining, keen on films and music and he got the impression she meant to make something of herself in the world beyond a sleepy little village or a provincial town. She reminded him of some of the girls he'd met at the local dancehall near the barracks. They all seemed to be looking away from the drab, austere reality of England in 1952, their eyes firmly set on America and everything bright and exciting there. Many of them had met G.I.'s during the war and even as children been impressed by the glamour and exotic charm of these young men with their fun-loving ways, strange accents and generous nature. He saw no harm in Hattie's ambitions, after all, he had plans of his own, not that he meant to share them with her.

The second time Hattie had appeared in The Red Lion the following day he was sure she had called there deliberately in the hope of seeing him and she did at least have the good grace not to pretend too much that it was a coincidence.

"Always running into each other, aren't we?" she called to him, seeing him at the same table as the day before. He politely made his way to the bar and bought her a drink before they sat back down again.

"I see you're getting used to Shank's Pony then," Tom observed.

Hattie grinned, "Yes, worst luck. Not that I don't think you ought to have more buses or the underground. That would be a great improvement."

"The underground," Tom exclaimed, "You haven't got one of those in Ipswich have you?"

Hattie laughed, "No, not yet but I reckon every place should have one."

Tom had only used the underground a couple of times when he had a forty eight hour pass and had gone up to London with a few of the lads who were intent on having a good time. Their idea of a good time, however, involved the bars and clubs of Soho and Tom, although not an entire innocent in the ways of the world, had found some of the sights and sounds a little embarrassing and not really to his taste. Finding an ally in a fellow private, Nevil Canning, he had sloped off to the cinema to see a Western leaving the other chaps to sample the dubious delights on offer. Going to the dancehall on a Saturday night and enjoying a few drinks and some innocent foxtrots with the local girls was one thing, paying for the company of what his father might call 'A lady of the night' seemed sordid and a betrayal of everything between himself and Bella. He was a young man and he had natural feelings but he knew that the only woman he truly wanted was Bella and he would wait for her.

"So, what are your plans, Hattie? When you go back to Ipswich what are you going do with your life?" It was Tom's second beer and despite the fact that he didn't want to encourage her, he felt his reserve slipping under its influence.

"Who says I'm going back to Ipswich," she paused before adding, "Well, least ways not for good. It's alright for some, but I want more than that. Don't you want more than this place?"

He felt as if she was reading his mind and wondered if Bella had said anything but decided to play innocent, "I haven't really thought about it."

She had leaned a little closer to him, gave him a flirtatious sideways glance and said, "Think about it, Tom Stimpson. There's a big world out there and you might enjoy it in the right company."

As he walked through to the shop under the disapproving gaze of his father, Tom was determined to tell Hattie as clearly as possible without being rude that he wasn't interested. She gave him a bright smile as he approached and called out, "Can I treat you to a cup of tea and a cake at 'The Poppy Tearooms'? It's not exactly a pint of beer but The Red Lion isn't open yet."

Tom came around to the other side of the counter and taking her by the arm lightly steered her outside.

"Crikey you're keen," she laughed.

Tom hadn't wanted his father to listen to the conversation and waited until he was outside before saying, "Look, Hattie. I think you're a nice girl and I'm flattered that you like spending time with me but I don't think it's a good idea you calling round here all the time."

She knew the meaning of his words and her hopes of finding an ally in him started to fade. She had trusted in her own ability to win him round and the disappointment was hard to stomach. She was sick of ending up like this and her resentment towards other's good fortune surfaced, "Well, if you're saying this because of Bella, more fool you."

She turned to go but Tom had caught the tone of her voice and was suspicious, "What do you mean, more fool me?"

"Nothing," Hattie replied.

"No, " Tom retorted, "You did mean something didn't you? What do you know?"

Hattie took a deep breath, she hadn't meant to use this knowledge in this way but right now she needed Tom in her corner. She softened her voice and tried to look and sound sympathetic, "I'm sorry Tom. I don't like a nice lad like you being messed about, especially after you've been so kind to me, but I saw Bella with another chap the other day and he was kissing her."

X-X-X-X

The bold white lettering on an emerald green painted background proclaimed Warmley's Greengrocers and was situated in a busy high street between an ironmongers and a baker's shop. Charles had never been to Ipswich before and was grateful to Gordon for the lift into town in his Austin van. He would gladly have given him a lift back to airfield later but was on his way to a supplier and couldn't guarantee how long he would be. Charles assured him he would manage to find a taxi at the station and bid him farewell.

It was early afternoon and the morning rush of housewives was over. All provisions for that day had been purchased and preparations made for main meals. For the first time that day Charles stopped to consider his actions. He had set out that morning with no plan other than to complete some paperwork at the airfield and now here he was hours later standing outside a shop in Ipswich realising that he risked looking ridiculous. He took a deep breath and opened the door. Inside the shop there were rows of largely empty trays containing a few sad potatoes, carrots and cabbages, items that had been inspected and rejected and what remained of the produce that had been brought from the market in the early hours of the morning. The shop was empty and Charles waited, wondering what to do next before loudly clearing his throat and calling out "Hello."

A slight, fair-haired woman who he judged to be in her early forties, appeared from the back of the shop. On seeing Charles, her hand strayed involuntarily to brush a strand of hair from her forehead and the tilt of her chin and the expression in her blue eyes as she turned to look in his direction reminded him of Hattie.

"Excuse me, but I'm looking for Violet Tyler."

The woman's surprise was obvious not only because he was very well-spoken but also the nature of his enquiry. "That's me. Do we know each other?"

"Forgive me, "Charles stepped forward and offered his hand, "I'm Charles James, Molly's husband."

Recognition dawned on Violet's face and she looked slightly flustered, "Goodness, of course. Nice to meet you." She reached out to shake hands with him but still seemed confused, "What brings you to Ipswich, Mr James.?"

He tried to sound casual wondering exactly what she would make of his explanation and fearing he was about to confirm his prediction of looking ridiculous, "Well, as a matter of fact. I'm here about Hattie."

Charles saw the look of surprise on Violet's face, surprise mixed with something else. It might be excitement or fear but he couldn't tell which.

"What do you know about Hattie?" she asked in a rush.

It was Charles' turn to be surprised and he hesitated, "I'm not sure what you mean."

"She means do you know where she is?" A man's voice called from the open doorway at the rear of the shop. Charles turned to see a tall, thin moustachioed man in his early fifties watching him, "because we haven't seen her for six months."


	13. Chapter 13

**_Thank you for reading and reviewing this story. I'm sorry it's been a bit of a slow-burner but the end is drawing nearer and I promise that the plot will reach its conclusion before too much longer. Thanks again._**

 **Chapter Thirteen**

Violet Tyler poured the tea and handed a cup to Charles. He thanked her and glanced around him at the small sitting room of the flat over the greengrocer's shop. Harry Warmley had locked the door and put up the closed sign below and joined Violet and Charles in the flat upstairs. Violet had been almost overcome by the news that Hattie had turned up again after six months of compete silence and had asked Charles more than once, "She's alright, is she? You're sure."

Charles had assured her that Hattie was perfectly well and enjoying a stay with them in the country. He then added a white lie saying that he had needed to come over to Suffolk on business and had taken the opportunity to pass on Hattie's best wishes as she hadn't been in touch for a while. He felt that Violet was owed that at least, even if it was of his own invention.

"It's a relief to know she's well. I've been worried about her," Violet confessed, "Please tell her to write and let me know what she's been up to and ask her to come and see us. I've missed her."

Charles could see the genuine anguish that Hattie's absence had caused her mother but a glance in Harry Warmley's direction revealed a far less tolerant attitude.

"She just upped and went last November," he explained. "Left a note on the mantelpiece saying she'd had enough of Ipswich and was off to make something of herself. Then not a word to her mother in all this time."

Charles reflected that this certainly sounded like the Hattie they had come to know over the past few days.

Harry glanced at Charles, "Did she say where she's been?"

Charles shrugged and tried to sound vague, "No not in particular."

Harry snorted with undisguised derision, "That sounds like her. My money's on London and I'll bet it was something to do with that chap she met at the dance hall. He put the idea in her head you mark my words, Vi. Not that she didn't always think she could do better for herself than this." He gestured around him and Violet looking a little embarrassed and with the natural instincts of a mother sought to apologise for her daughter,

"I think it was the pictures and all those magazines she was always reading, really. I suppose she just thought it would be more exciting in London. That's what worried me really, you know, the thought of a young girl up there on her own." She gave Charles an anxious knowing look realising that he probably knew the full story of how Molly had found her again during the war, working behind the bar of a pub after walking out of a similar job in a seedy Soho Club. Charles realised from the concern in her eyes that Harry Warmley probably didn't know the whole story and from what Hattie had said they had moved around a lot in the years before arriving in Ipswich. Violet had probably passed herself off as a war widow with a child, a sadly common situation. Charles had no desire to upset the life that Violet had made for herself here by revealing any past secrets.

He nodded at Violet's words, "Yes, I expect that's why." He paused before turning his attention to Harry and saying, "You said she met a man in a dance hall?"

"That's right. Mickey Williams," his distaste for the man was obvious. "A wide boy if ever I saw one. He came round here once or twice to pick Hattie up on a Saturday night and you could tell he thought he was something a bit better than everyone else. I'll bet he put the notion in her head." He looked Charles in the eye and said, "And goodness knows what else he talked her into."

"She's not like _that_ ," Violet interjected and Charles could see there was a conflict of opinion between them in respect of Hattie. "She's a good girl at heart, Mr James, I'm sure of it," she entreated and Charles smiled politely but could see that Harry wasn't convinced.

"Janet'll be pleased," Violet said rapidly changing the subject and looking in Harry's direction, "She keeps asking after Hattie." For the benefit of Charles she added, "She's a friend of Hattie's they were thick as thieves before she left. I think she's missed her. I only saw her yesterday and she asked if I'd heard from her. I reckon she's been really worried. Oh, it would be lovely if Hattie would come back and see me, better still if she would just come home. You will ask her won't you?"

Charles nodded automatically and glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was almost three in the afternoon and he needed to make tracks if he wanted to reach Nethercombe before darkness fell. It was a long time since he had flown at night and he didn't fancy his chances flying on instruments in an open cockpit coupled with the absence of any landing lights at the airfield. He made his excuses and was embarrassed by the effusive thanks he received from Violet for bringing her word of her daughter, "Just please, tell her not to worry. I'm not cross with her. I just want her to come home," was Violet's parting shot as he left the shop. The door closed behind him and he turned to see Violet still standing at the window a hand raised in farewell and a smile on her face. Harry had already turned away.

Charles walked down the street heading for the station, following the directions Gordon Davis had given him earlier, with Violet's entreaties regarding Hattie still replaying in his mind. He had agreed without thinking to her requests but he was already beginning to wonder how he could explain his visit to either Molly or Hattie without incurring the disbelief of one and the probable anger of the other; anger at having been found out. It was obvious to him that all his suspicions had been correct. Hattie Tyler had turned up in Nethercombe and told them all a pack of lies. Whatever her reason for visiting them was, he suspected it had little to do with a long-standing gratitude to Molly.

X-X-X-X

The Good Friday service had ended and the congregation was filing out of the pews in St Mary's Church forming a slow procession out through the porch to be greeted by The Reverend Swinton. Charles, Molly, Bella and William had attended whilst Hattie had volunteered to mind Edward and Rose. Charles had kept silent about his visit to Ipswich yesterday, deciding that an appropriate moment would doubtless present itself at some point but that he needed to discuss the matter with Molly first and she was too caught up in the plans for Easter Monday at present for him to bother her with this extra piece of news. Knowing the lies Hattie had told them all, he listened to her every utterance now from a different perspective and with a better idea of her motivation. Outwardly he maintained the same degree of politeness towards her as before but inside he was angry on Molly's behalf at the impudence of the girl.

Reaching the Reverend Swinton, the James family all shook hands and thanked him for the service with Bella being the last to do so. She looked to her left and saw Sir Percival and Lady Wilton further down the path already at the Lych Gate and then some way off to her right, Peter Wilton and his friend Max who had now returned from their visit. She had glimpsed them in Church when they had arrived. Seeing her now he raised a hand in greeting and she felt a strange nervous lurch in the pit of her stomach at the sight of him, Catching her eye he gave a small almost imperceptible wink before saying something to Max and then to her surprise casually strolling off in the opposite direction and disappearing out of sight behind the church tower. Max sauntered in her direction and Bella allowed Molly and Charles to move ahead of her down the path, slowing her pace to allow some distance to develop between them. As Max approached he said in a voice loud enough to be overheard by those nearby, "Good morning."

Bella replied in kind and as he drew nearer he whispered, "Peter wanted to talk to you but he didn't want to cause any embarrassment he's waiting around the corner."

He looked meaningfully at her and she realised that he must know about the time she had spent with Peter earlier in the week. She glanced ahead. Charles and Molly were deep in conversation with Miss Frobisher, the Head teacher at Nethercombe School and William was playing about with a couple of school friends. She turned to her right and walked towards the Church tower, pretending that she had a problem with her shoe and needed to sit down on a bench to sort it out.

Tom had been sitting in the pews on the far right of the church when the party from Greystones had arrived. The sight of Bella, looking so pretty and demure this morning in a grey suit, her beautiful eyes cast upwards taking in the sight of the sunlight streaming through the arched, stained glass window behind the altar, with just the merest hint of a blush visible on her cheeks, sent a stab of pain through Tom's heart. The thought that she had already moved on and away from him when, in his heart of hearts he had always hoped there would be a way back for them, had depressed his spirits more than he could ever have imagined. In the time since Hattie had told him about Bella yesterday everything had been running through his mind and he had slept very badly as the thought of Bella kissing another man continued to haunt him.

He had seen the Wiltons arriving in the Daimler earlier, together with Peter's friend, the one who had been at the Young Farmer's Dance. The Wiltons had taken their place in the front pew as befitted their rank in local society. Tom stared at Peter Wilton's back throughout the service, almost surprised that he couldn't feel Tom's eyes boring into him. As soon as Hattie had told him about the well-dressed, dark-haired young man Bella had been with, he had known it was Peter Wilton and his hurt and resentment had increased with each hour that had passed.

He went through the motions of the service with his parents beside him, mumbling the familiar words, singing the hymns, the tunes imprinted in his brain from all the years of hymn practice at school, without any real recollection of what had just happened. All he could think of was Bella and Peter Wilton together. When the service was over the congregation filed out. The Wiltons naturally moved out of the front pew and followed Reverend Swinton and the choir down the aisle to receive the first greetings at the church door. The church was packed on this occasion and it took a little time for everyone to make their way out, some stopping to exchange words with their friends and neighbours. Ahead of him, Tom saw the James family with Bella moving into the darkness of the porch and then out into the brightness of the spring day outside.

As Tom shook hands with Reverend Swinton he caught sight of Bella walking in the opposite direction from her family towards the Church Tower. She was fiddling with her shoe and looked as if she was going to sit down at the bench nearby. He couldn't keep silent any longer; he needed to speak to her about what Hattie had said and to hear the truth of what had happened from her own lips. As he moved in her direction he saw her straighten up and then walk purposefully towards the church tower and disappear around the corner out of sight. He was curious and followed her. As he reached the corner of the church he heard Peter Wilton's voice.

"Meet me in half an hour, down by the stream."

There was silence for a moment and then he heard Bella say, "I can't I've got to go back."

"Tell them you want to walk," he heard the persuasive note in Peter's voice. He could imagine the look on his face too, his eyes gazing at her, a playful smile on his lips maybe even his arms around her and the pain of jealousy assaulted him again.

Bella sounded worried, "I don't know, Peter."

"Find a way," Peter entreated, "Please, there's something I want to give you."

Tom could bear it no longer he turned the corner, "I'll bet he does."

They were standing a couple of feet apart and both swung around in shocked surprise at the sound of Tom's voice.

"So it's true then," Tom said his voice full of scathing derision.

"What's true?" Bella replied realising instantly from the tone of his voice and the look on his face that Tom was very angry, more angry than she had ever seen him before.

"You and him," he pointed at Peter in a meaningless gesture. "Meeting in secret. Only someone saw you. " He shook his head, "All that business about being angry with me about my plans and not wanting to wait for me. Be honest, Bella, you'd already given up on me before I came home on leave. Just how long have you been making a fool of me?"

Bella was horror struck. It was obvious that Tom knew something about her day out with Peter, however wrong he was about what else he thought had been happening and she suspected she knew who had told him. She took a step towards Tom, "You've got it wrong, Tom."

"Have I?" the incredulous look in his eyes told her it would take the devil's own job to convince him otherwise and she was lost for what to say to him. She'd told him it was over between them so why was she trying to defend herself now?

"Look, Tom, you're being very unreasonable here." Peter interjected, his lazy drawl and dismissive attitude irritating Tom further, "Bella is entitled to make friends with whoever she chooses."

Tom glared at Peter, " _Friends_. I suppose that's what you lot call it though in our book it's called 'walking out' but from what I've heard you usually skip that bit altogether don't you, Peter."

Peter lunged forward and grabbed Tom roughly by the collar. Leaning in close to him his face within a few inches of Tom's, he lowered his voice, his tone quiet and menacing, "If we weren't in a churchyard right now I'd make you regret that comment." He roughly shook Tom loose.

"What's going on?"

Charles, spotting that Bella was nowhere to be seen, had wandered back up the path to find her and turning the corner, happened upon Tom, Bella and Peter all looking guilty and ill at ease. He noted the alarm in Bella's face and the dishevelled state of Tom's shirt and tie which he was hastily trying to straighten out.

"Ask Bella," Tom said his eyes cold, "Ask her about her meetings with him," he pointed in the direction of Peter, "Ask her what she gets up to on her days off, where she goes and who she makes _friends_ with." He practically spat the word 'friends' at Bella before turning on his heel and marching off.

Charles glanced from Bella to Peter and saw everything written in their faces. He knew the stories about Peter Wilton and he understood Tom's anger but he had no intention of discussing anything further in public. With a nod of his head in the direction of the Lych Gate he said simply, "We're leaving, Bella."

He turned away from her and walked back along the path. Bella was pale and shocked. She merely shook her head at Peter saying, "I have to go."

He stepped forward, "Meet me, later. I'll be up at Nethercombe Cross at six tonight."

"I don't know," Bella said.

He looked into her eyes, "I'll wait."

X-X-X-X

The car journey back to Greystones passed in silence between Charles and Bella whilst Molly, unaware of the drama that had unfolded in the churchyard, chattered happily about the conversation with Miss Frobisher and her assurances of how well William was doing at school. William looked bored and embarrassed and thankfully Molly didn't seem to require anyone else's input to the conversation. Arriving back at Greystones, William rushed upstairs and Molly, seeing Hattie sitting out in the garden with Edward and Rose, was on the point of going into the kitchen to make lunch when Charles said, "Molly, I think the three of us need to have a chat."

Molly caught the serious tone of Charles' voice and he saw concern in her face. He nodded in the direction of the lounge and they walked in and shut the door. Having seen Hattie sitting in the garden acting as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, Bella's resentment at what had happened and at the catalyst for the scene in the churchyard welled up in her,

"Don't ask me to apologise for seeing Peter Wilton if I want to. It's a free country."

Charles had intended to sit down and discuss what had happened at the church in a quiet and reasonable manner but it was already too late.

Molly's eyes almost popped out of her head, "You're doing what?"

"There's no need to look like that Molly, he's not the bleedin' devil incarnate," Bella cried.

"Maybe not," Molly retorted, "but have you any idea how difficult everything is right now for us over this business with the Wilton's? They're just going to love their son walking out with you not to mention poor Tom. Where does he stand in all this? What about Robert and Marjorie too, did you stop to think how they'd feel about you messing their son around?" the pitch of Molly's voice was rising and her thoughts were running away from her.

"We're not 'walking out'," Bella yelled back at her sister with such fury that Charles was forced to intervene between the sisters,

"Why don't you both calm down. We don't need another war over this."

"Alright," Molly said tersely, moving across the room to pause for breath and gather her thoughts, "But I'm disappointed in you Bella. That chap has a bad reputation around here from what I've heard and I don't like what you've done to Tom."

Bella glared at her sister and tried to remain calm, "Firstly, I haven't done anything to Tom. You know about his plans to swan off without me. What about what he's done to me? We're finished now thanks to him and as for Peter Wilton, well he's been nothing but a gentleman to me. You'd know a bit about that wouldn't you, Molly, and it was alright for you."

Charles shut his eyes and whistled under his breath at the thought that his courtship of Molly all those years ago was now being dragged up as part of an argument.

"Yes," Molly said with total honesty, "I do and what's more I _still_ do after eight years of marriage. How long have you known him?"

It was a rebuke and Bella felt it but she had one last throw of the die in her hand, "Maybe I haven't known him long but even you might like him if I told you something I found out that might just help with the airfield."

Charles stared at his sister-in-law, "What do you mean?"

Bella noted that she had their full attention and she paused for breath, "It seems as if the Wilton's got very interested in that piece of land just before the war when a German professor from some important university or something was doing a tour looking at historical sites and he told them all about it. They even invited him to stay with them while he was over here because he reckoned there was something ancient and valuable buried under that land. Problem was, the Air Ministry had requisitioned it and were setting up the airfield. That's when Peter's Dad started complaining about it and why he keeps going on about it even now."

Charles was stunned and Molly's mouth almost dropped open before recollecting herself she said, "Why didn't you say something before?"

Bella shook her head, "I've only known about this a few days and judging by the way you're behaving you can work out for yourself why I didn't tell you. Anyway, what can you do about it? He wants the land back and you want the airfield. I don't see how you're going to sort that problem out."

X-X-X-X

As Bella walked up the lane towards Nethercombe Cross she felt as if she were making an irrevocable decision but one that still, for all her deliberations, sat uneasily with her. She had spent the afternoon in a long and tortuous analysis of everything that had happened this week and come to the conclusion that her life had changed and moved on. She had regrets but she would have to live with them and accept that she had burnt too many bridges to go back.

Lunch after the argument with Molly had been conducted in a largely painful silence interjected with the occasional stilted request to pass the salt cellar or pour a glass of water. Sitting at the same table as Hattie, Bella could barely contain herself. She tried not to look at the girl, in fact it had been hard after the argument not to march out to the garden and slap her for the trouble she had caused with Tom but she fought to rise above it. In spite of her anger she was still aware that there was obviously something wrong in Hattie's life and if she wasn't exactly sympathetic there was still a small degree of pity which held her back.

Walking towards Nethercombe Cross in the fading light of early evening, turning the bend in the road and seeing the Austin parked there with Peter waiting for her, she was almost overcome with nerves. Somehow in a very short space of time he had worked his way into her consciousness. She didn't know why he affected her like this but she couldn't ignore it any longer.

He walked towards her, "Are you alright?"

She nodded, "Yes, I think so but…"she paused not knowing how to explain her feelings, "I don't know where to go from here. Everything's changed."

He stepped nearer and reached out to her, his arms encircling her waist as he pulled her close to him. She was tense and nervous and he thought he could feel her trembling.

"I know where to go from here," he breathed, lowering his mouth to hers, his lips gently brushing against hers, just the merest pressure, nothing to alarm her. He teased her with his kisses as if asking her permission. He felt her start to relax, her hands move from his shoulders, wandering upwards her fingertips tentatively touching and exploring his face and neck then intertwining with his hair and finally her lips parting in response to the increased pressure of his kiss. She leaned in to him, pulled him down closer and deeper, physically responding to him as his hands started to wander, exploring and delighting in the longed-for sensation of her being in his arms and he knew in that moment that he had caught her.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

Gerald Harker raised his hand in greeting as Charles walked into the bar of the Bell Hotel in Upper Chilton. Charles had been here a couple of times before to meet Gerald. He remembered the first time when Richard Murray had introduced them and he had been intrigued and suspicious about the shady overtones of Gerald's life. In some ways he had been right. Gerald's work was conducted on the fringes of society, away from prying eyes but to protect its security not to mask criminal activity as Charles had once feared.

Yesterday, when Bella had told Charles about the information Peter Wilton had disclosed during their day out together, it had shed some light on the Wilton family interest in the airfield but Charles had also been sceptical.

"Why did he tell you that, Bella?"

Bella had shrugged, "We were just talking about why he's studying history and he told me about when he was a little boy and a 'mad German Professor' came to stay. It was a bit of a joke I 'spose. But that's why he got interested in the subject."

Charles had given her a long searching look, "You weren't talking about the airfield with him were you?"

Bella had stared at him as if he were a simpleton. The sarcasm in her voice was undisguised, "'Course not. Strangely enough, it's not something I feel the need to talk about much."

Molly had glanced at Charles, "Do you think he's telling the truth?"

Charles exhaled, "Might be,"

Bella glared at them both in exasperation, "Why wouldn't he be telling the truth? We were just talking, that's all. This ain't no spy film or something."

Charles and Molly's eyes met but Bella was still too irritated by the conversation which had immediately preceded this latest discussion to pay any heed to their private exchanges. In the end Charles had chosen the wise path of thanking Bella but had felt it was best to make light of the news. The last thing he wanted was Bella becoming unduly suspicious. He'd kept her away from the airfield as much as possible and resisted any hints she had dropped about getting a job there when she had first arrived in Nethercombe. It was enough that he and Molly knew what happened there. He didn't want Bella getting involved.

After lunch Charles had called Richard Murray and later in the evening an arrangement had been made for Charles to meet with Gerald at The Bell Inn the following day. The lunch period on Saturday was drawing to a close and the bar was almost deserted as Charles entered. Gerald was in a quiet corner, tucked away reading a newspaper and Charles missed him the first time he looked around. Seeing him on second inspection he crossed the room to him and the two men shook hands. Gerald nodded in the direction of the barman, "What's your poison, Charles?"

Charles asked for a beer and the two men exchanged pleasantries until the drink had been brought over. Gerald slipped the barman half a crown, saying, "He'll close up in a minute and we won't be disturbed."

Charles sipped his beer and wondered how long it would be before Gerald revealed his reason for meeting him. The doors to the bar closed and the few remaining customers left. The barman had also conveniently disappeared. Gerald drained his whisky glass and looked Charles in the eye,

"That was an interesting piece of information you passed me yesterday, Charles. You say it came from your sister-in-law."

Charles nodded, "Yes, it seems that she heard it directly from Sir Percival's son. My only reservation was that it might be a deliberate plant."

Gerald chuckled at the expression, "I can see we're starting to rub off on you, Charles."

Charles remembered Bella's words yesterday and gave a rueful smile, "I meant that it seemed too convenient."

Gerald raised his eyebrows, "I know what you mean, Charles, but from what our sources tell us, young Peter Wilton is not exactly a chip off the old block." He waved his right hand in an expansive gesture, "Oh, he may be surrounded by all the trappings and privileges of the landed gentry but he has some original thoughts in his head too, I understand."

Charles was surprised, "You know him?"

Gerald gave an elusive smile, " _We_ know of him. We tend to keep an eye on certain institutions for various reasons. They're quite a breeding ground for original thinkers although most of it is just hot air. However, we like to make sure they're all on our side."

Charles had made a deliberate point of distancing himself from Gerald's activities during the past two years but occasional conversations such as these only served to unnerve him. They suggested to him the high stakes twilight world of lies, half-truths and suspicion in which Gerald lived, one with which Charles had no desire to become familiar.

"Anyway," Gerald continued, "It would seem as if Mr Wilton has, on this occasion, unconsciously thrown us a little gem and certainly one which should help to smooth things considerably with the Planning Committee."

Charles was surprised, "I thought that if anything it would prove that we had reached an impasse. Sir Percival clearly values that land and will do anything to prevent us building on it. To be honest, despite the fact he's very disagreeable, I've begun to have some sympathy for his position."

Gerald said nothing in response but reached under the table for his briefcase, opened it and pulled out a buff coloured foolscap folder. He placed it on the table in front of Charles.

"I'm sure you realise that the information in this folder is secret and I would prefer that it went no further. In fact, I must ask that you don't discuss it with Molly. I'm sorry, but this is strictly on a need to know basis and I don't believe on this occasion that it would be of any benefit for your wife to know about this." He pushed the folder across the table to Charles. "When you've read that, we'll discuss how best to proceed."

Charles looked down at the folder. It bore only one name printed in large black letters on the front cover. _Professor Wilhelm von Carsten._

X-X-X-X

Bella was hot and breathless by the time she reached the top of the hill and turned left into the lane which lead to Marchbank Farm. She was on her way to deliver some groceries to the Statham's and despite the fact that it involved an arduous ascent on her bicycle she was glad to be out and about delivering this morning rather than being behind the counter at the shop.

From the moment she had arrived at the Stimpson's this morning she had known that something was wrong. There had been no cheery greeting from Robert or invitation to come into the kitchen and fetch herself a cup of tea from Marjorie. Robert had given her a long look before saying, "Morning, Bella, don't take your coat off, there's a stack of deliveries to do." Marjorie hadn't even ventured into the shop as she usually did but stayed out the back. Bella could hear the sound of her washing the dishes. Tom was nowhere to be seen.

Bella had fetched all the parcels and the delivery list and loaded them onto her bicycle before going back into the shop to check a detail with Robert. As she entered she saw Marjorie and Robert standing together obviously in quiet conversation which ceased the moment she arrived. They both looked at her and Bella feeling very uncomfortable couldn't help blurting out, "Don't stop on my account unless it's about me." She tried to smile and make a joke of it but the look on Marjorie's face told her at once that they had indeed been talking about her.

"What's the matter?" Bella asked

She saw a fleeting look of anger cross Marjorie's face. "I think you know," the older woman replied and Bella realised that Tom had told them everything that had happened yesterday. She was seized with the urge to tell them that they were wrong and that Tom was wrong but the memory of meeting Peter last night, of the long lingering embrace, the feel of his arms around her and on her and the passion of his kisses, stopped her in her tracks. However wrong Tom's accusations had been yesterday at the church he wasn't wrong now and she was too embarrassed to lie to two people who had been nothing but kind and welcoming to her.

"I'm sorry," was all that she could whisper.

"Happen it's Tom you need to tell, not us," Robert replied. She could see that in spite of his words he was hurt and hurting for his son.

"Me…and Tom, we'd had a ….bit of disagreement," Bella stammered. She still didn't want to tell them about Tom's plans. She owed him that at least. "I didn't set out to hurt him, it just sort of happened…"

The look of withering contempt on Marjorie's face was such that Bella had never seen before and it shocked her.

"You watch out, my girl," Marjorie said scarcely hiding her emotion, "Things do just sort of happen around Peter Wilton." She turned away without another word and disappeared into the back.

Bella felt like crying. She was hurt by Marjorie's words and the look on her face. She had always really liked Tom's parents and the fact that she had hurt their son was clearly too much for his mother. Robert, despite his own feelings, could see that Bella was upset and said in a not altogether unkind tone of voice,

"She's angry, Bella, the way only a mother can be angry at someone who's hurt their child. He might be a great hulking lad but he's still her boy."

Bella nodded, "I know. I didn't want this to happen," she paused, wondering whether to ask the next question. "Is Tom alright?"

Robert sighed, "What do you think? That lad loves you. How would you feel?"

She took the rebuke without comment and made her way out of the shop. There was nothing more that she could say. However much she felt that Tom had caused the rift in the first place there was no doubt now that she had taken things further and last night had been a turning point.

As Bella approached the Statham's farmhouse she saw Frank emerge from the barn and cross the yard towards her,

"Morning, Bella. How are you?" The young man seemed pleased, if not a little self-conscious at her unexpected arrival.

"Very well, thanks," she lied trying to ignore the malaise that this morning's events had cast over the day.

"Did you enjoy the dance?"

It already felt like a lifetime had passed since the dance last Saturday but Bella feigned enjoyment, "It was good, thanks."

Frank rubbed his hands on his trousers, conscious that they were grimy from work, "Saw you with Tom, there, didn't I? Bit of a surprise him turning up, I 'spose"

Bella nodded, "Yes, I didn't know he was coming home on leave."

Frank snorted with laughter, "I reckon so, or you wouldn't have been dancing with the likes of me or that Peter Wilton, given the chance."

Bella didn't know how to respond but not wishing to cause any offence said, "It was nice dancing with you Frank, thanks for asking me."

Frank seemed pleased, he even blushed a little before adding, "Well, good job I was there anyhow, Tom wouldn't have wanted you left with that Wilton chap."

Bella was thinking to herself how right Frank had been about that, knowing Tom's thoughts and actions since then, when Penny Statham came out of the kitchen door and called over to her, "Hello, Bella. Why don't you come in and get a cup of tea. I'll bet you're parched. I've just made a pot. You too, Frank."

Bella wheeled her bicycle over to the farmhouse and rested it against the wall before unloading her parcels and following Frank into the Statham's kitchen. It was large, warm and welcoming. The big range in the fireplace was pumping out heat and the smell of freshly baked bread filled the room. A large oak table big enough to accommodate the ever growing Statham clan dominated the centre of the room. There was a cloth laid upon it and a large brown teapot and mugs together with a plate of homemade Easter biscuits.

"Take a seat, Bella," Penny indicated the oak bench at the table and Bella sat down whilst Frank wandered through to the scullery and washed his hands in the large sink there before joining them. Penny poured them tea and offered her a biscuit.

"We were just talking about the dance," Frank said.

"Oh, that was fun," Penny replied her expression lighting up at the memory. "You got a bit of a surprise didn't you?" she laughed, nodding at Bella.

Bella was forced to maintain the air of cheerfulness and agreed with Penny before Frank interjected, "I was just saying it was a bit of a turn up for the books to see Peter Wilton there. You had to dance with him didn't you, Bella?"

"Why do you keep talking about him like that?" she replied unable to disguise the curiosity in her voice.

Penny and Frank exchanged looks and Penny seemed embarrassed but said with hesitation, "He caused a few... ripples around here a couple of years ago."

"It was more than that, Penny," Frank said staring at his cousin, "He's lucky he's got rich parents who sent him off out of it before Hannah Blackwood's Dad got hold of him."

"Frank!" The single word of admonishment from Penny was enough to convince Bella that she thought Frank had overstepped the mark but it was no good, Bella had to know what he meant.

"What are you saying?"

Penny was blushing in earnest now and didn't want to answer but Frank, although chastened by his cousin, answered, "Got her in the family way didn't he, least ways that's what everyone said. She got packed off to her relatives down in Devon, so say, because she had a job to go to and he went off on holiday somewhere pretty sharpish and hasn't been around here much since."

The news only added to the comments Bella had already heard from Tom, Marjorie and even Molly.

"That's what happened is it?" Bella asked, her voice unusually sharp even to her own ears.

Penny clearly reluctant to reply said, "That's what people said, but no one's really sure. She's not been back here since and to be honest this is the first time Peter Wilton's been seen around here since about then." She shrugged, "I don't know."

Frank sniggered, "Well, you're the only one who don't, then Penny. Everyone knew what they were up to, except her Dad."

Penny glared at Frank and pointedly changed the subject, preferring to talk about the plans for the Easter Egg Hunt on Monday and Bella answered as politely as she could despite being distracted by Frank's comments.

Before long the tea was drunk and the biscuits eaten and, glancing at the clock, Bella realised that she ought to hurry and complete her rounds. She thanked Penny and Frank and took her farewell. She hadn't really been listening for the past fifteen minutes or so because the news from Frank and Penny had bothered her and clouded her mind. She didn't like what she had heard but had no idea how reliable the information was? No matter how much Frank had scoffed at the idea, Penny had said that no one really knew why Hannah Blackwood had left. It just seemed the easiest course of action to blame it on Peter Wilton. As she cycled back down the hill, she also remembered Peter's words to her earlier in the week, "Don't believe everything you hear about me." Perhaps this was what he had meant and it was his way of telling her that the stories were nothing more than conjecture. Who could be sure that the Blackwood girl hadn't just gone away for work or that Peter hadn't just gone off to University and been too busy with new friends and social activities to be hanging around in Nethercombe. The thought 'no smoke without fire' crept into her mind but she pushed it away. She wouldn't just judge him and find him guilty the way everyone else around here had. He'd been good to her and it wasn't fair to think of him that way.

She continued on her rounds, dropping off parcels to several other outlying cottages in the area before heading back to the village. It had taken her more time than normal, mainly due to the unscheduled invitation at the Statham's and realising it was almost lunchtime, she thought that she could probably just head back to Greystones without needing to encounter Tom or his parent's again that day. The shop would be shut for the next two days with it being Easter Sunday and there being a bank holiday on Easter Monday. She was glad of it. It would be a chance to keep away.

She had almost reached the village and had slowed to negotiate a tight bend in the road when she was startled by the sound of a very loud wolf whistle. She turned her head and saw Peter Wilton leaning against a five bar gate, arms crossed, and a broad smile on his face. She slowed and stopped.

"Were you waiting for me?"

He strolled towards her, "Might have been or maybe it was just chance. You decide," and without any further ado, he leaned across, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. Holding her heavy bicycle steady, Bella could do nothing but let him kiss her. He released her, smiling, "God I've been longing to do that since last night."

Bella flushed slightly at the memory and he noticed, "You're blushing," he laughed clearly amused.

"You don't know who might come round the corner at any moment and I wouldn't want to give anyone a shock," Bella said trying to make light of her awkwardness.

Peter stared at her, "Would you care if someone did see us?"

Bella hesitated. Her mind was racing in the light of everything that had happened today and she didn't know how to answer him. He saw the look on her face and said, "Who's been talking about me?"

"It doesn't matter, " Bella replied, "It's not anything like that. It's just that Tom's told his parents about us and it's a bit difficult, you know, working in the shop all the time. They're upset and Molly's cross with me as well." She hoped that she had deflected the question.

Peter seemed to thinking about what she had said. He shook his head, a resigned expression on his face, "That's Nethercombe for you. It's a small world here, Bella. They don't forgive or forget very easily. I'm sorry if I'm making things difficult for you." He looked genuinely saddened and Bella reached out and grasped his hand.

"You're right. It is a small world, but you didn't make it difficult for me. Tom had already done that," she sighed, "Problem is, I'm sort of stuck here now."

"Are you?" Peter's question startled Bella. She looked up at him and their eyes met, "Why do you have to stay here. You've got a family in London. To be honest I'm amazed you've stuck it this long. Why don't you go back? There are plenty of opportunities for a girl like you and we could meet up at weekends, go dancing, to the theatre and parties. It would be so much more fun than here." He seemed excited by an idea, "Look, Max and I are heading up that way ourselves on Monday. I'm going to stay with Max's family for the final week of the holidays. They live in Berkshire. Why don't you hitch a lift with us? We can make plans."

Bella was a little overwhelmed by Peter's suggestion. He made it all sound exciting and the idea that he wanted to make plans with her was flattering. She had willingly left London almost two years ago, bored by her employment in mundane secretarial jobs and had rapidly come to love life in Nethercombe. Although now she realised how much of that love had been bound up with her love for Tom. The decision to make her home with Molly, her job, her social circle, all of them were connected to Tom but that was over now. Peter had painted a picture of a small wold in which gossip reigned and your past deeds, true or not, would always come back to haunt you. Hadn't she already seen and heard that in the looks and comments of Robert, Marjorie, Tom and Molly, the sniggering innuendo of Frank and the blushing embarrassment of Penny.

"What do you say?" Peter asked.

There was some sense in what Peter was suggesting. Perhaps she had reached the natural conclusion of her time here, but still she couldn't just dismiss everything as if it were nothing, "It's a bit step."

He nodded then looking about him for witnesses in an exaggerated, theatrical manner and placing his hands on her shoulders, he kissed her again. When he finally drew away from her a little, he whispered, "If there's anything else I can do to persuade you, you only have to say."

Bella took in the sight of him, his face still so close to hers. There was no denying his charm. When he spoke like that, his voice soft and teasing, kissed her with the maturity and confidence of a man who had seen more of life and looked at her that way, his eyes intense and longing, she felt how much nicer it would be to spend time with him away from Nethercombe and how easy it would be to let him just talk her into leaving. At this moment she knew she could so easily close her eyes and say, 'yes' she would go with him and put all her present difficulties behind her but something still held her back. This village would always occupy a place in her heart and she couldn't deny it no matter how narrow-minded everyone seemed at the moment. At the back of her mind a small voice of caution was whispering to her not to rush.

She took a deep breath, "I'll think about it."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

The clock in the hall struck three in the morning and Bella paused to listen to the soft familiar chimes before signing her name at the bottom of the page. Sleep had eluded her. The more she had tried to clear her mind of all the confusing thoughts that had been disturbing her since Saturday and her encounter with Peter, the more awake she had felt. When she had left Peter on Saturday afternoon she was still unsure where her future lay and whether she should even continue to see someone like him when so many doubts were being raised by everyone around her but the events since had done nothing to convince her that her future lay in Nethercombe, quite the opposite.

Molly's annoyance showed no signs of abating any time soon, particularly as Marjorie had told her at length at how hurt she was by Bella's actions and Molly, despite knowing that Tom's travel plans had been the start of the problems between them, couldn't understand how Bella could turn her attention to Peter so quickly, "Five minutes ago you loved Tom. How can you start courting someone like him?" It was something Bella was struggling to explain to herself. How could she tell her sister that it wasn't really about her feelings for Tom having changed but her hurt at Tom's unwillingness to consider her, coupled with an undeniable attraction that she felt for Peter? Perhaps he had just appeared in her life at the right moment but she certainly didn't feel that she deserved Molly's disapproval.

From Hattie there was nothing but cheeky impudence. In a few quiet moments when they had found themselves alone Hattie had dropped comments such as, "You're a sly thing, Bella. Fancy having two men at your feet. Mind you, if you don't want Tom anymore I'd be glad to take him off your hands."

Bella, not for the first time in the past few days, had to fight the urge to slap Hattie, "I bet you would," she hissed at her with no pretence at disguising her feelings, "It's just what you wanted. You might be fooling Molly with your grateful act but you don't fool me. You're trouble Hattie. You've been up to something ever since you got here and probably before that."

Hattie had given her a sickly sweet smile, "Well, say what you like but you're not exactly flavour of the month round here, are you. I think Molly can tell when someone's bitter, can't she?"

Worse than this had been church on Easter Sunday. Bella had wanted to stay at home but Molly had insisted that she show her face in public. The whole village had been there and she could tell that some people knew. She was conscious of sly glances in her direction and one or two people who quickly looked away when she caught their eye. At the far side of the church she caught sight of Tom standing proudly erect, his head held high and his eyes resolutely staring at the front of the church.

There had been one awkward moment at the end of the service as she was leaving. She had been following on behind Charles and Molly, holding William by the hand, when the little boy had seen Tom and pulled her in his direction, "Auntie Bella, ask Tom if we can play Pooh Sticks."

Tom had seen William heading his way with Bella, looking embarrassed, in his wake, "Hello William, did you get lots of Easter Eggs this morning?" He kept his eyes fixed on the boy and tried to sound cheerful.

William had nodded, "Can we play Pooh Sticks, Tom?"

Tom shook his head, "Sorry, William, not today." Bella heard the sadness in his voice.

"Auntie Bella will play as well, she likes Pooh Sticks."

Tom continued to look at William, "Yes, she likes to play games, William, but I don't." He turned away and joined his parents.

Tom's words sent a stab of pain through Bella. It felt so unfair. She was so close to yelling at him but she stopped herself. She wouldn't descend to that level. She looked around her. In the space of a few days this world had changed. Everyone seemed to be blaming her. The only person who had continued to behave normally towards her was Charles. He was too much of a gentleman to say anything more to her than, "I hope you know your own business, Bella?" at which she had nodded. He had respected her and said nothing more on the subject.

Sitting in Charles' study in the small hours of the morning her decision was made. She had written a letter to Molly, a simple note to explain that she was going back to London to her parents, that she didn't feel comfortable or welcome in Nethercombe any longer and felt it was time to go. She didn't want a big scene or any further arguments and had resolved to leave that morning while everyone was out at the Easter Egg Hunt. She decided that she would feign a headache, pack her bags and call Peter Wilton. He had told her to leave a message with the Butler and he and Max would call to collect her. She had resolved to accept the offer of a lift but as for the future with him she would play it by ear. She was too sensible to ignore everything she had heard but she liked him and was attracted to him too much to just cut off any association because of a few gossips.

The second letter had been hard to write. However hurt she felt, she couldn't leave without saying something to Tom. It was obvious he wouldn't speak to her again and she was torn between simply leaving and saying nothing more or putting her feelings on paper. His words yesterday had hurt her and that was evidence enough to her that his opinion still mattered. She wanted him to know the truth. She wrote three drafts before the words finally came to her. She signed her name, sealed the envelope and hid the letters in a book on the shelf. She would retrieve them later when everyone was gone. Now that the decision was made she felt sad but resigned. Her eyes felt heavy and she knew that if she lay down for a while she would sleep. She stood up turned out the light in the study and slowly made her way upstairs.

X-X-X-X

From the moment Molly caught sight of the Women's Institute banner at the head of the Easter Bonnet Procession turning the corner of the Cookham Road onto the Village Green, she realised there was going to be an unpleasant scene.

The Easter Egg Hunt was in full swing having started at ten thirty that morning. Far more children had turned up than either she or Marjorie had anticipated. It seemed as if nothing like this had ever happened in Nethercombe before and everyone was curious, not least the hordes of excited children milling around, wildly looking for painted Easter eggs in every nook and cranny of the local area and with little regard for anyone else. Despite Marjorie, Robert and Molly's occasional shouts to be careful, get out of people's gardens and stop climbing on the churchyard wall or even Tom's assistance in running around and shooing the children from places they shouldn't be, the excitement of some children could not be contained.

On the far side of the Green Molly could see Charles supervising William, Edward and Rose as they searched for eggs. William was rushing about excitedly while the twins needed to be shown what to do by Charles but they were learning quickly and even at a distance Molly could see that they were grinning and giggling. Hattie had been with them until a few minutes ago. She had been very helpful all morning, arriving early with Molly to get everything ready and helping Charles with the children. It was a good job she had offered to come as Bella had complained of a headache and said she was going to stay in bed. However, looking at Tom, forlornly wandering around hands in his pockets, when not extricating children from inappropriate places and Marjorie's depressed spirits, Molly was not sorry that Bella wasn't here.

Hattie had gone back to Greystones when Molly had realised that, in the rush of preparations this morning, she had left the twins' coats behind and despite the brightness of the day at present, she was worried that the distant clouds threatened rain. Hattie hadn't looked thrilled at being asked to fetch the coats. A ten minute walk in the countryside still seemed a long way to her but suddenly remembering herself and not wishing to tarnish Molly's good opinion of her she said, "'Course I will, Molly. Don't want the little loves getting wet and cold," and without further ado disappeared in the direction of Greystones.

Turning to see what was holding Molly's attention Marjorie also caught sight of the Women's Institute Banner and at head of the Procession, the President flanked by Lady Wilton. Both were wearing bright yellow bonnets covered in silk flowers and tied by ribbons in a large bow under their chins. Molly was seized by the urge to laugh. They looked ridiculous and she was very glad she had decided not to take part. However, it struck her that the Procession wasn't supposed to be taking place now. It had been supposed to take place this afternoon. When they had gone to the meeting the President had clearly stated that it would start at two o'clock. Marjorie exchanged a worried look with Molly,

"Why are they here?" she asked.

Molly shrugged, "I don't know. Oh God...they're heading this way."

As the procession drew nearer it became apparent that the children on the Easter Egg Hunt had no intention of making any allowances for the procession as they wildly weaved their way in and out of the marching rows of women, causing some to stop suddenly, stumble or even call out to them to watch where they were going or they would get their ears boxed. Molly felt herself growing tense as the procession reached them although she had hopes that they might just pass by with an air of haughty indifference until at the last possible moment, William's school friend, Colin Healey, spotting an egg hiding in the flower pot at the front of the Stimpson's shop and fearing that another child would get there before him, dashed at the speed of a whippet in front of the procession.

Audrey Pattinson, a sturdy famer's wife, who was no stranger to hay baling, herding cows or dealing with a bad-tempered sow, marched proudly at the head of the procession carrying the banner, eyes to the front and, conscious of the responsibility invested in her, failed to see little Colin rush in front of her. The farmer's wife collided with the child. She tripped, staggered and stumbled in an ungainly fashion for a yard or two before losing her balance and, although valiantly trying to keep the banner aloft, fell headlong onto the road, legs akimbo and skirts lifted to display rather more of her long-legged bloomers than she would have liked her neighbours to see.

"Procession. Halt!" Lady Wilton cried at the top of her voice with the authority of a Sergeant Major.

Behind her the ladies of the Nethercombe Women's Institute came to a shuffling halt and Lady Wilton, ignoring poor Mrs Pattinson still lying in the road and trying to recover her dignity, strode towards Molly and Marjorie, anger blazing in her eyes. Molly felt her heart beating rapidly, the sound of it reverberating in her ears.

"What is the meaning of this disorganised rabble of children swarming all over the place with no care or consideration for anyone else, least of all the traditions of this village?"

Molly took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm, "It's the Easter Egg Hunt, Lady Wilton. They're not a disorganised rabble, they're children having fun and as for disrupting the procession, I'm sorry, but you weren't supposed to be here until this afternoon."

The older woman stared at her, "Well, if either of you were the type of member who participated fully in our activities and traditions such as taking part in this procession, you would have been informed, as was everyone else, that we had changed the time to avoid the inclement weather that has been forecast for this afternoon."

Molly was provoked, "Well, that 'aint our fault. It's yours and if you must know I wouldn't take part in your stupid bleedin' procession if someone paid me."

Lady Wilton was outraged and even Marjorie's mouth dropped open in shock. At that moment they were joined by the President, Miss Morrison, who had been helping Mrs Pattinson get to her feet. Lady Wilton turned to her, "I demand that Mrs James and Mrs Stimpson are barred from the Nethercombe Women's Institute."

Miss Morrison, conscious of the authority invested in her and the importance of doing everything by the book, looked from Molly to Lady Wilton and said in as reasonable a tone as she could muster, "This matter will be put to the next committee meeting and both yourself and Mrs James may put your side of the story. I cannot and will not make rash decisions. The rules must be observed, Lady Wilton. Now, Mrs Pattinson appears to be unhurt and I suggest that make our way to the Village Hall and finish the procession as planned. Good Day to you Mrs James." The President turned away and the procession began to wind its way towards its conclusion at the Village Hall.

Lady Wilton glared at Molly, "This isn't over."

"It is, " Molly declared. "You can stick your stupid Institute where the sun don't shine." Lady Wilton's mouth dropped open. She couldn't speak. No one had ever spoken to her like that before and she had no answer. She turned in stunned silence and followed the rest of the procession. Molly ran her fingers through her hair, exasperated at her own hot-headed response, "Oh, god, why can't I just shut my bleedin' mouth, sometimes?"

She felt Marjorie pat her lightly on the arm, "She had that coming. She's had that coming for years."

X-X-X-X

Bella heard the car pull up outside and the toot of the horn. She glanced around her. She would miss Greystones and she knew that for all their present disagreement, she would miss Molly, Charles and the children. She had thought of this place as home and of Nethercombe as the place she would settle and she was sad that it had come to an end.

She reached out and placed the two envelopes on the hall table, propping them up against a vase. Molly would see them the moment she came back from the Easter Egg Hunt. Bella knew she would probably be surprised but ultimately she would understand.

Bella picked up her suitcase, opened the front door and went out before slamming it shut behind her. The Austin was outside. Max was sitting in the front passenger seat. Peter had got out of the car and walked towards her.

"All set?"

She nodded at him, "Ready as I'll ever be."

He took the case from her and stowed it away in the boot of the car before opening the rear door and ushering her inside with a grand sweeping gesture. She settled down in the back of the car and as it pulled away from the house she had loved, she willed herself not to look back.

X-X-X-X

Hattie tried to push open the front door but it was firmly locked. She didn't remember Molly or Charles locking the door when they had left for the village that morning. Nobody locked their doors around here Molly had told her. The worst crime spree in the last couple of years had been a spate of apple scrumping and the three young lads who had been found responsible had received a severe telling off from Constable Norris and the threat of a good hiding from their parents.

Hattie considered knocking on the front door but wondered if Bella would hear her if she was asleep upstairs. Instead she wandered around to the kitchen door and thankfully found that it was still open. Walking through the house she headed back to the hall to find the twins' coats hanging up on the hooks near the front door. As she passed the hall table she caught sight of two envelopes propped against the vase; one addressed to Molly and the other to Tom. She recognised Bella's handwriting. She had seen some notes lying on her bedroom table and she wondered why Bella had left the letters here.

Hattie called out, "Bella?" There was no answer and curious as to where she had gone when she had claimed to be ill, Hattie went upstairs to look for her. Opening the bedroom door she saw at once that the curtains were pulled, the bed was made and that books, trinkets and personal belongings which were normally in the room were missing. She had spent enough time eyeing up Bella's belongings to notice their absence. She opened the wardrobe. It was practically empty and the black suede shoes were gone. She looked under the bed and saw that Bella's suitcase was missing as well. She had enough painful experience in these matters from the nomadic childhood spent with her shady father and even more recently, to know when someone had done a flit. It was obvious to her that Bella had gone.

She wandered back downstairs and gazed at the letters on the hall table. It was only natural that Bella would leave a note for Molly but what might she have said to Tom? Hattie sighed, she still had hopes for Tom in spite of the fact his leave ended tomorrow and he was returning to the army. She took the letter from the table made her way to the kitchen and put the kettle on the hob to boil. She would have to wait for a few minutes but she'd done this plenty of times before and knew how to do it properly. She fetched a knife from the drawer and as the kettle began to boil she carefully placed the seal of the envelope in the flow of steam and bit by bit with the help of the knife prised the envelope open without causing it to tear.

She took out the single sheet of paper covered in Bella's neat handwriting and read the contents. She sat down at the kitchen table and considered the words for a few minutes and then read it again. On the second reading she made up her mind. She put the letter back in the envelope, left the kitchen, made her way back upstairs and went into the bedroom. Looking around her for somewhere suitable she eventually decided upon the top of the wardrobe. She placed the envelope up there, out of sight, hidden by the decorative panel above the doors. She glanced around her. She liked this room. Reaching out she tested the mattress of the bed. It was better than that camp bed she was using. Yes, this room would suit her nicely.

The clock in the hall stuck eleven and Hattie realised that she ought to hurry back or everyone would wonder what she had been doing. She found the twins' coats and left by the kitchen door. If anyone asked she would say that Bella had been here when she returned. She had no intention of telling anyone that she had left. They could all find out in their own good time.

X-X-X-X

"Where's Hattie got to?" Molly asked gazing up at the sky which was growing ever darker. It was more than half an hour since Hattie had left to fetch the twins' coats from Greystones. It should have taken no longer than twenty minutes even at the slow amble that was Hattie's normal pace. She was usually wearing an unsuitable pair of shoes which accounted for the way she walked. After the confrontation with Lady Wilton, Molly's enthusiasm for the Easter Egg Hunt had begun to wane and the numbers of children and spectators had reduced significantly. Only a few hardy searchers were still dashing around trying to find the last few well-hidden eggs.

"Tom, go and see if you can find Hattie and run back with Eddie and Rosie's coats before it rains," Marjorie called out to her son. She hated to see him wandering around like a spare part. He had seemed a shadow of himself these last few days and tomorrow his leave would be over and he would be returning to the army. Maybe it was just as well. Seeing Bella every day and knowing about her and the Wilton boy would only rub salt into his wounds.

"Alright," Tom replied strolling off in the direction of Greystones and heading for the shortcut over the bridge, the one on which he had first seen Bella playing Pooh Sticks with William. He disappeared around the bend in the path out of sight of the Green and was about to take the fork that led down to the bridge when he heard the sound of voices a little way ahead. A man was speaking quickly, the accent unfamiliar and his tone rough. A woman answered and then he heard a voice he recognised. It was Hattie and there was something different about the way she was speaking. She sounded frightened.

Instinct made Tom keep out of sight but he edged closer, finding that he that he was able to catch a glimpse of all three of them through the bushes. They were standing on the bridge just below him. The man was young, probably in his mid-twenties with a pencil-thin moustache, dressed in a sharp suit, his dark hair slicked back and a Homburg resting at an angle on the back of his head. The woman was red-haired, dressed to the nines and wearing too much make-up to be local to Nethercombe. She reminded him of the way Hattie had looked when he had first encountered her sitting on her suitcase in the lane. In the days since her arrival here she had toned down her appearance and was beginning fit in apart from her obsession with the high-heeled shoes which made her walk so slowly everywhere. Tom strained his ears to hear what was being said. It was immediately apparent that Hattie knew the couple.

"How did you find me?" Hattie asked.

The man leaned in towards her, "You've got your mum to thank for that."

Tom could see the confusion in Hattie's face, "What d'you mean? She doesn't know I'm here."

The redhead spoke up, "Yes she does, Hat, couldn't wait to tell me the good news about you staying here with those nice friends of yours after the posh gentleman dropped in to see her last week."

There was a moment's silence as Hattie tried to make sense of this information. "Charles?"

The girl nodded, "That's right, your friend's posh husband went to see your mum. She was so happy about it she popped round to tell me all about it the next day seeing as I've been so worried about you all this time."

Hattie stared at the redhead with contempt, "So he's been using you to do his dirty work has he?" nodding her head in the direction of the man.

"You took his money," the redhead retorted.

"He owed me that," Hattie threw back at the woman.

"Ladies, please," the young man said in a mock gesture of gentility, clearly amused by the argument. He turned what he obviously considered to be a charming smile upon Hattie but even at this distance Tom could see the menace behind his eyes, "Janet's right, of course, that money was mine. In fact it was mine and Sam Hoffman's. You knew that when you took it, didn't you, Hattie? Thought you'd do a runner and get one over on me. Make me look bad in the eyes of the boss. Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused me? Sam wants his share and he's not a very patient man. So tell me where the money is or I might lose my patience too."

At this remark Hattie gave a snort of derision, "Nothing new about that is there?"

"Look Hattie, just tell him where the money is. That's all Mickey and me want," Janet interjected

Hattie turned her attention on the other woman, "So you're his latest are you? I wondered who it was." She stared at Janet and shook her head, "Well watch out. You might think he's nice as pie right now, 'cos he's good at turning on the charm when he wants something. Next he'll be telling you how much money a girl like you can make in London and what a great time you'll have. He'll persuade you to go with him and work for a friend of his but he hasn't started hitting you yet, or at least, maybe he hasn't hit you where it shows yet." She saw Janet flinch, her words clearly resonating with her and she couldn't help going further, "You know what I'm talking about, don't you." The two women glared at each other.

Suddenly, without warning, Mickey lunged forward and grabbed Hattie's right arm twisting it up behind her back. She cried out in pain, "You'll break my arm,"

"I'll break your neck, you bitch, if you don't tell me where that money is," he spat at her twisting her arm further.

Hattie yelled out again and Tom could stay hidden no longer. He rushed towards the bridge calling out, "What are you doing?"

Mickey was startled but he kept hold of Hattie, "Mind your own business, son. She's not worth the bother."

"Let go of her," Tom said trying to sound calm, although his heart was racing. He was taller and broader than this man and he'd had training in hand to hand combat. The odds were in his favour but it was clear that Mickey wasn't a man who played by the rules.

"She stole my money," the man said, "All she has to do is tell me where it is."

Tom took a deep breath, "I don't care what she did. Take your hands off her."

"Or what, sonny?" Mickey taunted.

Tom lunged towards him, grasped him by the lapels and tried to pull him away from Hattie. They were all thrown off balance and Hattie screamed out in pain as Mickey roughly twisted her arm and then flung her with all his strength to one side. She staggered, lost her footing and fell backwards into the brook two feet below. Janet hastily moved away, fearful of the situation that was unfolding as Tom took a swing at Mickey. He missed him but the smaller man grabbed him and wrestled him to the ground. They struggled, reigning blows down upon each other, trying to gain the upper hand and all the time at the back of his mind, Tom was afraid that Mickey might pull a knife on him.

X-X-X-X

Charles had watched the Easter Egg Hunt from the far side of the Green, trying to supervise Edward and Rose and keep William from getting over excited. The twins needed all his help and at one point he had looked up and had to shout at William to get out the way of a car that was speeding along the Green. It was moving too quickly for a sleepy village like Nethercombe in which children seldom needed to mind the traffic. He caught sight of a suited man and a red-haired woman. They disappeared out of sight and then his attention had been caught by the procession incident. He had seen the lady carrying the banner trip over a child and fall into the road and then the all too familiar sight of Lady Wilton marching across to have a verbal exchange with his wife. He didn't know what had been said but guessed from the body language of both that it hadn't gone well. Never mind, he reflected, perhaps the disagreements between Molly and Lady Wilton would stop soon. Charles smiled. He couldn't imagine them reaching a peace agreement, there was insufficient common ground for that to happen but with luck there might be a ceasefire.

After reading the folder on Professor Wilhelm von Carsten on Saturday, Charles had at once seen its significance and the way in which it could benefit their cause. He had discussed the issue with Gerald at length and they had agreed a way forward. Gerald wished to remain in the shadows and therefore Sir Percival had been asked by Richard Murray to attend a meeting at his office in Cirencester tomorrow on the pretext of discussing some Ministry of Defence lease issues relating to the airfield requisition but unbeknown to him, Charles would also be present.

Glancing at the far end of the Green, Charles judged that the Easter Egg Hunt was drawing to a close. Molly, Marjorie and Robert were tidying up and even William had lost interest now that almost all the eggs had been found.

"Can we play Pooh Sticks, Daddy?" the little boy asked.

Charles grimaced, he didn't really like the idea of taking Edward and Rose down to the brook but William was looking at him with large, pleading eyes. He sighed, "Alright. This is all Auntie Bella's fault you know, she started it."

William was delighted he started to trot ahead, gathering pace and increasing the distance between them, "Wait for us, " Charles called to no avail as William headed towards the path leading to the brook.

Charles bent down and scooped up Edward and Rose, one in each arm and started to jog unevenly after him. He hadn't reached the bridge before he encountered William running back towards them his face ashen and stricken with fear.

"What's the matter?" Charles said, immediately aware that something was very wrong.

"Tom's fighting with a man on the bridge and Hattie's in the water," the boy cried at him.

Charles knelt down and lowered Edward and Rose to the ground, "William, hold their hands and stay here."

The boy reacted to the tone of authority in his father's voice immediately and stepped forward to grasp Rose and Edward tightly.

Charles started to run towards the bridge, calling back over his shoulder again to William, "Just stay there."

As Charles turned the corner in the path he saw Tom and another man, dressed in a suit, rolling on the ground, wildly aiming punches at each other and hovering nearby a red-haired young woman, her face full of fear. Charles didn't hesitate for a moment, he waded in grasped the stranger by the arms and dragged him to his feet, pinning both arms tightly behind his back. Tom staggered to his feet, covered in dust, blood pouring from a cut lip and signs of bruising on his face.

"What the hell is going on?" Charles yelled at him.

The man he was holding started to struggle but Charles kept a firm grip. After another few seconds the man seemed to sag as if all his energy was spent.

"He was threatening, Hattie, "Tom said gasping for breath and then turning around asked, "Where is she?"

The girl who had been standing some way off, frozen to the spot, pointed down at the brook, "She fell down there,"

They all looked a couple of feet below and saw Hattie lying on her side at the edge of the brook, "You, " Charles ordered, looking at the girl, "Get down there and see if she's alright."

The girl glanced down at the high heeled shoes she was wearing and seemed to be about to object but Charles was having none of it, "Bloody well do as you're asked…now!"

Without another moment's hesitation Janet stumbled along the bank and slipping a little managed to reach Hattie at the water's edge. She caught her by the shoulder and managed to roll her roughly towards them. Hattie's body was limp, her face pale, and her eyes closed. Janet clasped her hands to her mouth,

"Oh God, I think she's dead."


	16. Chapter 16

**_Thank you for the reviews and comments about Chapter Fifteen. Time for a little bit of calm after the storm - but just for now!_**

 **Chapter Sixteen**

The nurse's footsteps echoed in the hall as she walked with even, purposeful strides along the corridor, passing Charles as he sat outside the ward waiting for news of Hattie. He had been here at Cirencester Hospital for almost two hours and the aroma of disinfectant and cabbage which pervaded the building was starting to make his head spin. They were familiar to Charles, transporting him to another time and another hospital during the war. It had been him lying in the bed, wounded and helpless then but at least he had known why he was there. Waiting for news of Hattie today he had no idea why she had ended up lying in that brook, her head having struck a stone which had knocked her unconscious or why Tom was fighting with a man he said had been threatening her. Charles had instinctively taken command of the situation sensing that Tom would never have become involved in a scuffle for the sake of it and that he needed to intervene.

In respect of Hattie, however, he wasn't surprised that trouble was following her around. From the moment he had first clapped eyes on her as an eleven year old child sitting outside the White Horse near RAF Milton, an unwilling victim caught up in her father's criminal schemes, until that moment today on the bridge, he had known that she and misfortune were well acquainted.

The squeak of rubber-soled boots on the polished floor drew Charles' attention and looking up he saw the portly, balding figure of Constable Norris approaching him at a leisurely pace. The years of patrolling the village on foot were evident in the way he rocked gently from side to side, his feet splayed, giving the impression that he was waddling. Charles knew that the local children imitated him. He'd even caught William and Colin practising in the garden one afternoon and ticked them off even though it had secretly amused him. The Nethercombe Village Policeman seldom had more to deal with than an occasional incident of poaching on Sir Percival Wilton's land or the odd local farm labourer causing a disturbance after consuming more than was sensible in the Red Lion. When Charles had sent Tom rushing off to fetch the local Bobby and telephone for an ambulance earlier that day, Constable Norris had arrived within a few minutes, sweaty and breathless after the unaccustomed run from the Station House. In the meantime, Charles had pinned Mickey to the floor and insisted that Janet take care of Hattie after establishing that her hysterical assessment of Hattie's condition had failed to take account of the fact that she was still breathing.

"Afternoon, Sir," Constable Norris said as he reached Charles, "Any news of the young lady, yet?"

Charles stood up, "I'm afraid not, but I thought I'd better wait until there's some news I can pass on."

"Ah yes," the constable said. "I understand that Miss Tyler's been staying with you."

"That's correct," Charles confirmed. "She's a friend of my wife."

"And the man and woman involved in the incident? " He reached into his top right hand pocket and drew out a notebook, turning over a couple of pages and glancing at them before continuing, "A Michael Williams, known as 'Mickey' and a Janet Adamson. Have you ever met them before?"

Charles shook his head, "No, never. Although, I've heard mention of them before. I believe that Hattie met this 'Mickey' in Ipswich and that the young woman is, or at least was, a friend of hers."

The constable paused from his questions and drawing out a pencil began, to Charles slight consternation, to make some notes, "Excuse me, constable, but do you need me to give a statement because I'm not sure this is the best place." Charles was conscious of the comings and goings in the hospital and the approach of other people. He had no desire to air this matter in public.

"There's no need right now, Sir, but if you could come into the Station tomorrow and make a statement it would be appreciated." Charles nodded and remembering the way in which Tom had assisted the constable in taking Mickey to the Station accompanied by Janet, asked what had happened.

"Mr Williams has been charged with assault and has been brought up to the District Station here. I believe there may be some other issues under discussion. CID will be talking to our colleagues in London who may have an interest in his activities."

"And the young woman?" Charles asked.

"She's given a statement but she's free to go… for now."

Charles was suddenly struck by another thought, "Tom's not in any trouble is he?"

Constable Norris started to chuckle, "Not with us, but I reckon his Ma will be giving him an earful if the look on her face when we walked past the Green is anything to go by." After a further minute's amusement at the memory he added, "Miss Adamson confirmed that Tom was only acting in defence of Miss Tyler. In fact, she's been very co-operative on a few matters. I gather Miss Tyler said something to her that changed her mind about Williams."

Charles was glad to hear that there would be no repercussions for Tom. It was the last thing the lad needed.

With nothing more to be said, Charles agreed to present himself at the Police Station the following day and the meeting was at an end although not before he was obliged to agree to a further request from the Police Officer. The request was reasonable in the circumstances but he knew that complying with it would force an awkward confession and the thought made him nervous.

When the doctor called to do his rounds half an hour later he spoke with Charles and appraised him of Hattie's condition advising him that nothing would be achieved by remaining at the hospital. If there was any change they would call him at Greystones.

X-X-X-X

The freshly painted front door, evident by its glossy appearance, the strong smell and the slight tackiness against her fingers as she pushed it open, surprised Bella. It was almost a year since she had last been home and there had been little evidence then of the Dawes family being overtly house proud.

"Hello," Bella called out making her way along the hall towards the kitchen at the rear.

"Who is it?" her mother's voice replied without coming to see who had entered the house.

Bella walked into the kitchen and regarded her mother bent over the kitchen sink, wearing an apron and elbow deep in soap suds.

"How are you, Mum?"

Betty Dawes turned in astonishment at the sound of her daughter's voice. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped opened in surprise before quickly transforming into a broad smile.

"What are you doing here, love?" she hastily wiped her hands on her apron and rushed across the room to hug Bella and kiss her on both cheeks, "Gosh you're a sight for sore eyes."

Bella laughed. It was good to see her mother, it had been far too long and she'd missed her more than she realised.

"I just thought I'd come back for a while, if it's alright with you and Dad."

"'Course it is. Don't be daft," Betty cried hugging her again, "As long as you don't mind sharing with Annie, even though the sound of her snoring could wake the dead. The doctor says it's her adenoids, or something." At this moment, even her little sister's sinus problems couldn't deter Bella. After the difficulties of the last few days it was a relief to be so warmly welcomed.

Betty reached for the kettle and put it on the stove to boil before turning to her daughter and saying again, "So you just decided to come home. Any special reason? Everything alright with Molly, Charles and the kids?" Betty was smiling but Bella had the impression that her mother was already starting to wonder what might have prompted the unannounced visit.

"Yes, 'course," Bella nodded, "They're all fine."

"And you're alright?"

The look on Betty's face was too familiar for Bella to doubt its meaning but she brushed it aside, "Why wouldn't I be?"

Betty gave her a long look, "I don't know love. Only you could tell me that."

Bella forced a smile, "Well, there's nothing to say, then." She turned away and busied herself opening her bag and looking for a handkerchief whilst her mother returned to the stove and set about making the tea. Neither of them were fooled.

Betty realised that there must be a reason for her daughter's sudden appearance without warning. She was too well settled up there with Molly and Charles. She had a lovely home, a job and a nice boyfriend. They'd met Tom once when they'd ventured up to Gloucestershire on the train for a day out last summer. He'd been on leave and seemed such a nice young man. Even Dave had remarked on the way home that the both the girls had done really well for themselves. Whatever, Bella might say to the contrary, Betty was sure something was up.

Bella was already wondering why she hadn't thought long and hard about these sorts of questions on the journey down here. There had been plenty of time sitting in the back of the car, looking out of the window as the countryside between Gloucestershire and Berkshire slipped past. They hadn't talked very much in the car. Bella supposed that Peter had been conscious of Max listening to their every word and little had been said. It was only when they had neared London and by prior agreement he took her to Maidenhead station, that they were able to grab some time alone.

Peter accompanied her onto the platform whilst Max waited in the car. He stood very close to her and reached out to grasp her hand, "Can I telephone you?"

Bella shook her head, "That'd be difficult. We haven't got a telephone."

"Then can you call me?" He reached into his jacket pocket, "Have you got a pen or pencil?"

Bella found a blunt pencil at the bottom of her handbook and a scrap of paper.

"This is the number of the Porter's Lodge. Call there and they'll come and fetch me and we'll talk and make plans."

Bella looked uncertain, "Sounds a bit complicated,"

Peter shook his head, "It'll be fine. I want to see you again, Bella. I want us to spend time together away from all those narrow minded people in Nethercombe. Just you and me being ourselves. Do you want to see _me_ again?"

He was gazing into her eyes, entreating her and it was hard to resist, "Yes. I do… but it's not going to be easy is it? Not with you up in Oxford and me in London. I can't see how we're going to see each other much and I shouldn't think your friends would have much in common with the likes of me. You'll change your mind when you go back and you're with all of them, again."

Peter sighed in exasperation, "I won't. Look, Max and I are going back on Thursday and there's a party on Friday night. Come to the party and meet my friends. You'll have a good time I promise you."

"Friday night in Oxford?" Bella repeated.

Peter arms crept around her waist and he pulled her nearer to him. Bella was conscious of the disapproving looks of an elderly couple nearby.

"You'd like that wouldn't you?" He whispered before kissing her and adding afterwards, "Because I would really, really like that."

"Alright," she heard the softly spoken acquiescence and realised that it had come from her. He kissed her again and she actually heard the couple behind her tutting but she didn't care this time.

The train arrived and as Peter helped her climb on board and handed up her suitcase he reminded her, "Call on Friday and leave a message. I'll meet you at the station." She nodded and as the train pulled away, starting to gather speed, she watched him turn and saunter back down the platform, an air of nonchalance about him. How easy it had been to agree to his idea when he was holding her close and looking at her so persuasively and yet now that he was gone and she was alone on the train she was already realising that she hadn't got a clue when or where the party would be or how she would get home afterwards. She was still pondering the sense in agreeing to go to the party on so little information when the train pulled into Paddingon twenty five minutes later. By the time she had reached the underground the butterflies had started to kick in although whether it was the thought of stepping into the unknown where Peter was concerned or returning home to an uncertain future she couldn't tell.

X-X-X-X

As Charles entered the house he heard the sound of voices in the lounge and opening the door saw Tom sitting on the sofa opposite Molly. As he turned to face Charles, the evidence of his bruising encounter with Mickey Williams was clear to see. His lip was cut and swollen and his eye almost closed up, the redness below starting to deepen in colour. By morning he would have a shiner.

"How's Hattie?" Molly asked at once.

Charles sank down into an armchair, "Alright, but still unconscious. She took a blow the head when she fell. The doctor thinks she's probably concussed and will come round in due course. They say it's just a case of wait and see. Although," he hesitated, unsure whether to continue.

"What?" Molly cried with obvious concern, fearing he had some very bad news to tell her.

Charles looked her in the eye, "They said she had obviously been involved in some sort of incident fairly recently. Apparently, she has lots of old bruises all over her," he lowered his voice, "they think somebody beat her."

Molly gasped in horror and then recalling the conversation before Charles arrived added, "Tom was just telling me that the Police are going to contact Violet but from what you're saying all of that must have happened before she came here. You don't think Violet has beaten her, do you?"

Charles took a deep breath, knowing the time had come for his confession, "No, Molly. I'm sure that Violet hasn't laid a finger on her. In fact, I told the Police I'd contact her mother because we know her and…I saw her last week."

Molly stared at Charles. The silence in the room was palpable. Tom looked from one to the other sensing that something was wrong.

"What do you mean, you saw her last week?" Molly was trying to comprehend Charles' words.

He swallowed, "I'm sorry, I didn't tell you and I know that I should have done but I flew over to Ipswich last Thursday. It wasn't deliberate. I needed to get away for a bit and I just ended up heading that way. When I reached the area I thought perhaps it would be an opportunity to find out why Hattie was really here." It was uncomfortable being in the wrong and he looked sheepish.

"But you didn't tell me and you didn't tell her either?" Molly cried, "Why?"

Charles turned his palms towards her and shrugged, "At the time, I suppose I knew it was wrong of me to snoop like that but the truth is that from the moment she set foot here, I knew she was up to something. None of what she said rang true. Bella thought so too."

Molly was shaking her head, "Well, never mind what Bella thinks, she's upped and gone with no more than brief note. You've got a nerve, Charles, accusing me of going behind your back sometimes and then doing something like this yourself."

Charles was startled by the news about Bella but too caught up with fighting his corner to remark on it, "Come on, Molly, you must have thought it strange that she turned up here without warning and all that rubbish about having a long holiday from work. She didn't have a job. You were just blinded by the fact that here she was all grown up and doing well for herself."

Molly was stung by the rebuke and both she and Charles suddenly became conscious that Tom was still sitting in the room looking and feeling embarrassed. Charles glanced at him, "I'm sorry, Tom. I'm sure you didn't want to hear this."

Tom rose to his feet, "I should be going anyway. I've got my stuff to pack."

"Of course," Charles responded, "Your leave ends tomorrow. We'll be sorry to see you go, but you don't have much longer left, do you?"

Tom nodded, "No. It's all coming to an end. Same as other things." Charles realised he was talking about Bella and felt tremendous pity for the lad. It had been a rotten leave for him and from what Molly had said, it seemed as if Bella had gone somewhere too. He reached out to shake hands with Tom, "Good luck We'll see you soon."

Tom nodded but said nothing.

Molly shaken from her contemplation joined with Charles, "Yes, good luck, Tom. I'm sorry that Bella didn't say goodbye."

Tom shook his head, "It doesn't matter, now. That's all over." He turned to go and held up a hand to stop Charles who was moving towards the door, "It's alright, I can see my own way out. Goodnight."

They heard the front door open and shut and then Molly turned back to Charles. The interruption of Tom's departure had taken some of the heat out of the moment but she was still far from pleased by Charles' revelation, "I suppose you'd better tell me everything about that visit, Charles, before I go phoning Hattie's mother and making myself look like an idiot."

X-X-X-X

Sitting in the kitchen, drinking tea with her mother, Bella reflected that Nethercombe seemed so distant from the life she had once known here. She had the disquieting sensation of feeling an outsider in what had once been the only world she had known. Bella had been fighting this feeling for years, ever since returning home at the end of the war after five years as an evacuee in Somerset. She had struggled to settle again after spending so many years away from her family and having loved the life she had lived in the countryside had been restless and eager for change. Joining Molly and Charles at Greystones had been the start of a new and welcome chapter in her life and she really hadn't expected to find herself here again, uncomfortably caught between the old and the new.

"Where's everyone?" Bella asked suddenly conscious that neither her father nor younger siblings were in the house.

"Up the allotment, love," Betty said with a smile. "Your Dad took the kids up there to get them out of the house for a bit."

The news didn't surprise Bella the way it had when she had first come home after the war. Dave's rediscovery of a talent for gardening had been beneficial to the family in the years that followed and now that he had an allotment he spent many an hour there weeding, planting and tending to the flowers and vegetables he grew. Bella's youngest brother, Harry, seemed to have a particular interest and often accompanied his father.

"He's got plans for the summer," Betty continued, "so he's getting everything ready for planting. Even got a potting shed up there now. It's a right little home from home," she mused, "He's up there more now than he's here. Least it's better than sitting in the Earl of Wakefield all day. Mind you, I wish he would try a bit harder to find some proper work."

Bella had to agree that it was preferable that her workshy father did something to help the family by growing food for them to eat than drink their meagre income away but it was nevertheless strange that he could manage to dig over the vegetable patch but wasn't fit for an honest day's work. Some things had changed in the Dawes household but others were still annoyingly the same and Bella suspected that her mother was doing as many odd jobs as ever to make ends meet.

"Well, Dad painted the front door, didn't he?" Bella remarked, "That paint's fresh isn't it?"

Betty rolled her eyes, "Oh it's fresh alright, but I did that. I've been asking your Dad to do that for the past two years and in the end I just couldn't stand the sight of the peeling monstrosity any longer. It hadn't been painted for twenty years at least. It was embarrassing."

Bella stared at her mother, "You did it?"

Betty put down her tea cup, "Don't look so surprised, missus, there's plenty that I can do if I have to," she leaned towards Bella and lowered her voice, "same as you could. Don't go letting that Tom of yours make you think you have to wait around for him to be bothered. But then, you'll be alright, love, he's a good 'un." She patted Bella on the hand as if certain that her daughter would not fall into the same trap as herself, "Both you and Molly are the lucky ones. Fall in love with a good 'un and you've got it made."

Bella heard the wistfulness in her mother's voice, "You love Dad, don't you mum?"

Betty gazed at the ceiling, contemplating the question and weighing up the highs and far too many lows of thirty years of marriage, "Yes, I love him, Bella, worst luck. Problem is, happy ever after in this world needs a little bit more than that sometimes."

Betty put down her cup, "I'm cooking tea soon. Why don't you take a walk up to the allotment, give them all a surprise and tell them to get themselves back down here. Your Dad won't miss a meal, that's for sure."

Bella stood up, "Alright, I'll see you in a bit."

She strolled along the hall and opened the front door. It stuck a bit around the edges where the paint was still fresh and Bella gazed at it, inspecting it more closely. The brushwork wasn't very good and there were smudges of blue paint on the brass door knocker but Betty had tried her best to make it look presentable. If her Dad couldn't be bothered to put in the effort to display a smart and shiny front door to the rest of the neighbourhood her mum at least was prepared to try even if her skills were limited. It would be one less reason for them to fight and Bella supposed it was her way of bringing them one step nearer to that elusive happy ever after.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

Charles reached Richard Murray's office in time for the appointment by the skin of his teeth. He had rushed from the Police Station in Nethercombe having given Constable Norris his version of the events at the bridge the day before. The Police officer had asked him to recount everything in minute detail more than once and the process had taken rather longer than Charles had anticipated but he was eventually free to leave with just enough time to drive to Cirencester for the meeting with Sir Percival Wilton.

With the unexpected events of Monday still fresh in his mind and the details of what had been happening in Hattie's life still scant, Charles was rather less focused on the purpose of this meeting than he would have liked. Hattie was still unconscious and that was a cause for concern all round. The doctor had talked vaguely of the next step if she didn't come round soon although hadn't elaborated on what that would be. Molly had telephoned Violet yesterday evening and handled the situation rather well, Charles thought, considering she had only discovered the truth of his visit to Ipswich and Hattie's disappearance from home, fifteen minutes before the call was made. She had hidden the details of how the accident had occurred, handled Violet's obvious distress at the news with skill and managed to assure her that everything possible was being done for Hattie. Furthermore, she had asked Violet to come and stay with them and Charles had been charged with meeting her at Cookham Halt station later in the afternoon. However, first there was the matter of Sir Percival Wilton to deal with and that required the experience and skill of Richard Murray.

As Charles entered Richard's office he apologised for being late, "I'm so sorry, Richard, I've been at the Police Station."

Richard raised his eyebrows in surprise, "Anything I should know about in a professional sense?"

Charles shook his head, "No, I'm afraid you can't help with that matter but I'm very firmly in your hands as far as this meeting goes."

Richard glanced at the clock, there was still five minutes before Sir Percival was due and it was time enough to brief Charles on what he needed him to do. He concluded with, "I'll nod in your direction when I need you to join in but I'm sure you'll pick up the direction of the conversation."

When Richard's secretary showed Sir Percival into the office on the stroke of eleven, the older man's surprise at finding Charles there was evident. He looked from one to the other for explanation before Richard asked him to sit down and said, "Forgive me for omitting to mention that Charles would be present, it's just that there are some issues with the airfield that I feel may need his involvement."

"Really," Sir Percival remarked drily, "I thought I was here to discuss some issues with the requisition order."

Richard rested his elbows on the desk and made a temple with his fingers, "Well, certainly there are some issues relating to the airfield which date back quite a while, in fact, to the period before the war." He let this sink in, seeing that Sir Percival was curious before continuing, "Does the name Professor Wilhelm von Carsten ring any bells with you, Sir Percival?"

Charles saw the surprise in Sir Percival's face, surprise mixed with confusion. His response was slow and deliberate, "I recall that I may have met someone of that name many years ago," Sir Percival was vague, clearly unwilling to commit to the acquaintance.

"Come, now, Sir Percival," Richard coaxed. "You knew him a little better than that, didn't you?"

Sir Percival gave a little more ground, "He was an interesting chap and his specialism was ancient British history, I think. I believe he was working on a thesis and doing research here."

Richard nodded very slightly at Charles and taking the prompt he asked, "Would I be correct in believing he showed some interest in the area around here?"

Sir Percival gave Charles a long look. He was trying weigh up the degree of Charles' involvement in this matter and asked rather warily, "What are you getting at, James?"

Charles pressed on, "He told you that the land on which the airfield was built was of historic value, didn't he?"

It was obvious to Sir Percival that the information he and his wife had sought to keep secret for over ten years was now known by others. He was struggling for a reply until annoyance won out, "Yes, damn it man, he did tell me that it was the site of an ancient burial ground. Got quite excited about it and he was very keen to conduct a full archaeological dig but the Ministry chaps had got a hold of the land and there was nothing he could do. However, he agreed to stay around and conduct what other research he could, both here and in other areas which was very decent of him."

"So, you invited him to stay with you. Am I correct?" Richard asked.

Sir Percival sighed in exasperation, "That's right,"

"And this would have been when?" Richard prompted.

Sir Percival gazed at the ceiling thinking about this, "Before the war, obviously…early spring, maybe. Yes, that would be it, spring of '39."

"How long did the Professor stay with you?" Charles asked.

"Well, he came and went, if you must know, but all in all it was about three months or so and then he had to go back to Germany. He'd been on a sabbatical, he said, and needed to get back and prepare for classes. He was hoping to come back the following year and we invited him to stay again. Of course, the war put paid to that. Shame. He seemed like a decent fellow."

"So, it was the Professor who brought the historical value of the land to your attention and told you that there might be items of significant value buried there," Charles summarised, "and it's why you've been opposed to the airfield ever since?"

Sir Percival looked Charles in the eye, "Wouldn't you be if someone told you that?"

Charles nodded and said reasonably, "I suppose I would but then I'd have to be certain that what I was being told was true."

"What are you saying?" Sir Percival asked, "The man couldn't dig the place up and prove it because of the blasted airfield."

"Exactly," Richard interjected. "He was free to tell you as many lies as he wished, because he didn't have to prove it."

X-X-X-X

Tom dropped his kit bag onto the floor of the shop and turned to give his mother a kiss. His eye was painful and swollen and he wondered if he would get ribbed when he returned to barracks today. He didn't have a reputation for being physical or getting into scrapes so he could imagine the comments. He decided that if anyone asked he would say that he'd had an accident. One glance in the bathroom mirror this morning had convinced him he wouldn't get away without some sort of excuse. He certainly didn't want to discuss what had really happened. The business with Hattie, the fight and his present discomfort seemed like the appropriate end to an awful leave. He had come home eager to see Bella and full of plans for the future with his National Service drawing to a close and now he felt as if he had nothing to look forward to. It had been bad enough just falling out with Bella but to discover she was seeing someone else and someone like Peter Wilton to boot, was even worse, not to mention the fact that she had upped and left Nethercombe without a word. That had almost hurt him the most. It wasn't the done thing to call yourself broken-hearted. That was something for girls and sentimental songs but if feeling as if all the joy in your life had been ripped out and replaced with a dull aching loss was a broken heart then he knew how it felt.

"Take care, Tom," his mother said, reaching out to hug him.

He patted her on the back trying to console her, "Won't be long, Mum."

"That's right," she forced a smile.

He paused unsure whether to say anything more but decided it was worth a chance and addressing himself more to Robert than Marjorie said, "When Bella comes back," he saw his mother bristle at the mention of her name but ploughed on, "Tell her that I'm sorry about before, before everything happened. She'll know what I mean."

"I don't see what you have to apologise for, my lad," Marjorie replied at once, "and who's to say she's coming back anyway."

Tom stared at his father and Robert taking the hint said, "Well happen if she does, we'll tell her."

Tom nodded at his father and bent to pick up his kit bag, "I'd best be going. The bus will be along in a minute."

Robert opened the door for him and followed him out onto the Village Green. The bus stop was only fifty yards away and the bus would take him to the station. The shop door shut behind them and Robert looked at his son, "Don't mind your mother. Bella's hurt her too. She's been like a daughter to us while you've been away. Your Mum might not say it but she loved her, still does, I reckon, and she'll miss her."

Tom focused on a point in the distance trying not to look at his father, "We all will."

The Cirencester bus turned the corner in the road and came into view and Tom offered his hand to his father but Robert ignored it and not caring who was looking reached out and bear-hugged his son, "You're a good lad, Tom. I wish I could change things for you."

He released him and as Tom stepped back Robert could see he was putting a brave face on things as he said, "I should have changed things for myself."

He picked up his kit bag and made off for the bus stop, pausing just once to glance over his shoulder and raise a hand in farewell. Robert watched him get on the bus with a couple of other local women heading into Cirencester, shopping baskets over their arms. The bus pulled away and he watched it depart before heading back into the shop. As he entered he saw Marjorie hastily dabbing at her face with a handkerchief and he knew she had been crying. He crossed to her and held out his arms to hold her. She accepted the embrace and he said softly, "Don't take on so, lass. He'll be back soon."

Marjorie nodded, "I know but he won't be the same will he? Not after all this."

Robert patted her arm, "None of us stay the same, Marjorie. That's the way life is."

X-X-X-X

Bella watched her father digging over the ground on the allotment, preparing the soil for planting, puffing with the effort of turning the heavy sods of clay and wondered why he spent so much time up here. He definitely liked gardening and growing things, the abundance of fruit and vegetables each spring and summer was testament to that but beyond that she couldn't really see the appeal. The only other explanation she thought likely was that it was his way of getting away from the rest of the family. According to her Mum he spent a large part of each day up here which was easy enough as he was seldom working anywhere else.

After twenty four hours at home Bella was beginning to sympathise with him. Her brothers and sister were older than William and the twins and far more inclined to fight, squabble and argue with each other and, despite her long absence, with her as well. Annie, her ten year old sister, had lived up to Betty's prediction and did indeed snore loudly enough to wake the dead. Bella was tired after a poor night's sleep sharing the cramped bedroom. There was no peace or quiet in such a small house and nowhere else to go. Bella thought longingly of her own bedroom at Greystones and the way it had been before Hattie had arrived, the large family kitchen in which she had Molly had spent many an hour discussing the local gossip and the miles of open space in the Cotswold countryside. As much as Nethercombe had been unwelcoming to her in the last few days Bella already knew that she missed it.

She was beginning to wonder what she would do with herself now she was back here in London. She couldn't sit around doing nothing, like her Dad. Before long her mother would need her to find a job. She couldn't sponge on her family for long. There was no choice but to look for work and start making a contribution if she wanted to stay at home. It was all very well, she thought, for Peter Wilton to make everything sound exciting and easy, talking about meeting her, going to parties and spending time together but he wasn't here now trying to cope with her life and her family. She hadn't thought her life would turn out this way and if she was honest she was worried.

She caught sight of her Dad looking at her, "Penny for them, love?"

Bella grimaced, "Is this how you imagined your life would be when you were my age, Dad?"

Dave stood upright, rested a hand on the handle of the fork for support and rubbed the small of his back, wincing as he did so, "Can't say I did, love. When I was your age I hadn't even met your Mum, not that I hadn't had offers. I was a bit of catch in those days," he winked at Bella who did little to disguise her incredulity at this remark. It was hard to imagine her father being a considered a catch particularly seeing him today, with greying hair, an expanding waistline and beads of sweat on his brow in spite of only working for a few minutes.

"Don't scoff, "he added seeing her face, "I was going places. They reckoned I might make foreman and who knows after that, 'praps a manager one day. I even had ideas about being my own boss and there were plenty who thought I'd do it. Ask your mother, she'll tell you."

"So what happened?" Bella tried to sound lighthearted but she genuinely felt the need to know what had stopped the young man with ambitions he claimed he had been, making a success of his life.

Dave sighed, "I dunno. One day you think your whole life is ahead of you and there's time for everything and next thing you know twenty years have gone by and you're still only five minutes round the corner from where you started. Mind you, the accident didn't help," he rubbed his back again as if to emphasise the point.

"But that was much later," Bella remarked, "I remember that happening. What stopped you before that?"

Dave shrugged, "Life I 'spose and settling down. You just get on with one day at a time and before you know it time runs out on everything else."

It was a miserable view of what had gone wrong with Dave Dawes life and the thought of time simply running out on his dreams saddened Bella. She had seldom felt much pity for her father who undoubtedly had allowed his natural tendency towards apathy to affect his attitude. However, hearing him talk about what he might have done and remembering her mother's words of disappointment yesterday when she thought about the way their lives had turned out, the importance of seizing every opportunity as it arose seemed to be staring her in the face. There was nothing to be gained by sitting around waiting and hoping whilst time slipped through her fingers like sand in an hour glass.

As if sensing her thoughts Dave called, "So, when are you going back, Bella?"

Bella was startled. So far she'd managed to avoid any questions like this and she stalled for time, "Why d'you ask?"

Dave scratched his head, "Well I thought you were set on staying up there with our Molly and being near that chap of yours. Your Mum didn't say anything about you visiting so I thought there must be a reason for you being here."

She nodded, "As a matter of fact there is. I'm going to see a friend on Friday who lives up this way and I thought I'd spend a bit of time with all of you first."

"A friend, eh?" Dave said turning back to his digging, his interest already satisfied.

"Yeah," Bella replied, "Quite a good friend as it happens."

X-X-X-X

"Are you trying to tell me the man was a charlatan?" Sir Percival cried, his face almost apoplectic with annoyance at being told that Professor Wilhelm von Carsten had not been telling him the truth about the land on which the airfield was built, "Because if you are, what on earth could he have gained from the deception? Apart from being fed and having a roof over his head, we didn't give him anything. In fact, he was away as often as he was staying with us." Sir Percival's voice was rising in volume with anger.

"When he was away, what did he say he was doing?" Richard continued, trying to keep Sir Percival calm.

"Research, I suppose. The man said he was writing a thesis and was looking at sites throughout England." Percival responded, "I've already told you that and I fail to see the point of all these questions."

Richard Murray nodded at Sir Percival, "Well, I can confirm that Professor von Carsten was looking at sites but not the type of sites you're thinking of."

Richard reached into his desk and took out a black and white photograph, "Is this the man you knew as Professor Wilhelm von Carsten?"

Sir Percival stared at the photograph. It was obvious that he recognised the man, "Yes, that's him."

Richard feigned a look of regret, "Well I'm sorry to tell you that his real name is Friedrich Becker, he's currently in prison in Germany and apart from a correspondence course with the University of Wyoming in 1929 he's never been anywhere near a university, let alone become a professor of ancient history, although he did belong to the Sulzbach Amateur Dramatic Society as a young man, which probably helped with the theatricals."

Sir Percival was clearly shocked. He sat in silence for a full ten seconds before gathering his wits sufficiently to say, "How do you know this?"

Richard cleared his throat, "Let's just say I worked in military intelligence during the war. I can't give you any more details than that."

"So he was a fraud, then?" Sir Percival concluded, "And you're telling me that there's no truth in the story about the burial ground." He paused, the full realisation of the ten years' of wasted argument and complaint dawning upon him but unwilling to give way entirely he recovered himself enough to say, "It's a rum deal, but it still doesn't mean I want you to expand the airfield on what is effectively still my land. My objections to your plans remain unchanged."

"It's interesting, "Richard said, sitting back in his chair as if having anticipated this continued resistance, "you've accepted that Herr Becker was not a university professor but you haven't asked me what he really was."

Sir Percival shook his head, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, that he was, as you rightly stated, very busy surveying sites across the country, sites that all had one thing in common. They were all adjacent to RAF airfields." He let the information sink in for a minute or two but the older man stayed silent waiting for the hammer blow, " I'm sorry to tell you, Sir Percival, that the man you expended so much hospitality upon and invited to stay in your home with your family was in reality an Abwehr agent, German military intelligence, who had been tasked with building up a detailed picture of our airfields and defences in the months before the war. You see he was taken prisoner in 1944 and there's a large file on his activities both before and during the war. It seems you provided him with a very handy little bolthole to escape to if things got a bit hot."

"Now look here, " Sir Percival began clearly shocked and outraged by what he had heard, "if you are suggesting for one minute that I was in league with him, you are very much mistaken."

"I'm sure that's true," Richard said in a placatory tone, pandering to Sir Percival's need for reassurance but Charles sensed he was about to pounce, "However I'm not sure if everyone would see it that way. It's surprising that a man of your obvious experience and intelligence wouldn't have been suspicious of a chap like Becker. I can hear people questioning that and it's such a shame when people gossip. I wouldn't want someone like yourself, with so much standing in the local community to have his integrity questioned in this way."

The punchline was delivered. Sir Percival sat in silence contemplating the writing on the wall. Everyone in the room understood what was happening. For a brief moment Charles felt some pity for the man. He didn't for one minute believe that Sir Percival had entertained any pro-German sympathies before the war. He had been hoodwinked by his own greed and the promise of potential riches. Now, however, his only interest lay in preserving his dignity and position in society. He cleared his throat, "I think that I may be able to find grounds to support the Planning application for the airfield and I'm sure that others may agree with me that the interests of the local community should be placed ahead of any personal issues relating to the land." He looked at Richard and Charles, "Do we have an understanding, gentleman?"

Richard nodded and held out his hand, "We do. "

Sir Percival stood and reached out to grasp Richard's hand, "Very well, I think this matter is at an end." He turned to Charles, his hand outstretched, and as Charles took it he was certain that Sir Percival was shaken by the news. There was no doubt that it had come as a blow but he was still determined to maintain his dignity, "Good day to you, both."

Richard showed him out of the office and returning a minute later with a broad smile of relief on his face he regarded Charles, "It's lunchtime. What do you say to a quick pint, Charles? I think I need it." He paused to consider the morning's events and rubbed his hands together as if contemplating a job well done, "It's been years since I led someone down the garden path and then pushed them over a cliff. I've missed it."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

"You've given us all a real fright, Hattie," Violet Tyler informed her daughter, slowly shaking her head in disbelief as she took in the sight of Hattie propped up on the pillows in the hospital bed, her face pale and a bandage around her head covering the cut above her eye where she had struck the stone at the edge of the brook on Monday.

"Sorry," the single word of apology from Hattie did little to quell her mother's nerves and anxieties. Three days had passed since the incident and Violet had been coming to the hospital with Molly for the past two days since her arrival in Nethercombe desperate for some good news. When the telephone call had come through from the hospital last night to say Hattie had regained consciousness and spoken to the nurses Violet was overjoyed that Hattie was going to recover. Now that the initial fears for her daughter's life were over however, and it was clear that her memory was returning, Violet had started to think about everything Hattie had put her through from that first day when she had packed her bags and left Ipswich.

"How could you do it, love?" Violet asked thinking of the six months that had passed without a word.

Hattie looked confused, "I told Constable Norris that I didn't do anything like _that_. I just used to do a bit of hostess work at one of Sam Hoffman's clubs. I kept the customers company, got them to buy drinks. Nothing else. You do believe me, don't you, Mum?"

Violet's eyes met Molly's. They both knew that Violet was acquainted with clubs like The Dragonfly and she had plenty of idea what happened there.

"That's not what I meant, Hattie," she replied ignoring the information she had been given, "Why did you just leave without a word?"

Hattie bit her lip, "It was Mickey I s'pose. Everything was just so boring in Ipswich. I hated that job at the factory. Mickey was the only exciting person I knew. He was always up at the dancehall splashing his money about and talking about places in London. I just wanted to do something else and he said he could get me a job up there with a bloke he knew who owned some clubs," she trailed off.

Violet looked her in the eye, "Why didn't you tell me?"

A petulant look crept into Hattie's eyes, "Why do you think? After all that stuff with Dad, you weren't exactly going to give me a pat on the back and wish me good luck. I knew Harry didn't like Mickey, either. If I'd told you what I was going to do you would have stopped me."

"With good reason as it happens," Violet immediately retorted before adding, "Were you ever going to tell me where you were?"

Hattie nodded, "'course I was, but I wanted to make a success of everything first so you both wouldn't go on at me, although that didn't happen, did it?"

They were both silent and then Violet said, "I've tried not to nag you. I thought we got on better than that."

Hattie sighed, "Well, if you want the truth it was Harry mainly. I don't like him acting as if he's my Dad," she rolled her eyes, "Well, least ways like a Dad should be not like mine was."

Violet reached out and patted Hattie's hand, "He's a good man, Hattie. Maybe you could have done with a Dad more like him when you were little, instead of the useless one you got. Perhaps you wouldn't have ended up in this state if you'd had a proper Dad." At the final words Molly heard a slight tremble in Violet's voice and a tear rolled down her face.

"Don't cry, Mum, " Hattie said quietly, "It's not your fault. If anyone should have known better after growing up with him, it was me and I should have known that a bloke like Mickey wasn't going to let me just run off with all that money."

The money had been mentioned on Monday. Charles and Tom had told Constable Norris about the conversation and it had quickly transpired that Hattie had left London in a hurry and arrived the following day in Nethercombe. It hadn't taken anyone long to realise what Hattie had been keeping in the locked suitcase under her bed the contents of which were now in the hands of the police.

"Why did you take the money?" Molly asked.

Hattie stared at her and said without compromise, "To teach him a lesson because he deserved it."

"Did he treat you badly?" Molly asked remembering Charles account of the bruises.

Hattie nodded, "Thought he was God's gift didn't he. He used to go off with other girls, ignore me, shout at me and sometimes he hit me as well," Violet flinched and Molly pitied her discovering the life Hattie had been living. "Well, a couple of weeks ago he really went to town on me just because I said I wasn't going to put up with it anymore. I think he'd had a few but he hit me really badly and when he went out later I just thought 'I'll teach him a lesson he won't forget'. He ran card games for Sam Hoffman. That is some that Sam knew about and some he didn't. He used to stash the takings under the floorboards. I found it once when he was out but I didn't tell him. Anyway, the day after he'd walloped me so badly, I waited for him to go out and then I just packed my case, took all the money and left. The only problem was I needed somewhere to go that he wouldn't find me and that's when I thought of here. He didn't know anything about you, Molly, so I thought it would be a safe place."

Molly shook her head, "It would have been if Charles hadn't gone to Ipswich. I'm sorry, Hattie."

Violet turned to Molly, "Well, it was just as much my fault because I told Janet and she brought that Mickey here."

"Some friend she was, stupid cow," Hattie muttered and Molly could see that Violet was about to remonstrate with her and intervened, "Well, it looks as if she did take notice of what happened to you. Charles said she's telling the Police everything she knows, so it looks like you've done her a favour at least."

A few minutes later a nurse came over to take Hattie's temperature and told Violet and Molly that Hattie needed to rest. In all fairness Hattie did look pale and tired and the conversation had flagged. Violet had been talking about what would happen when Hattie was released from hospital. Constable Norris had hinted that she would probably not be charged with any offence as the only thing she had done was to make off with the proceeds of some illegal gambling activities, the money had been turned over to the Police and she was being very helpful with their enquiries. If she was lucky she would be able to go home with little more than a warning to be more careful in future. Violet seemed intent on taking Hattie back to Ipswich believing that what she needed was time with herself and Harry in a proper home but even in her weakened state, Molly could tell that Hattie was less than enthralled by this prospect. She might have got her fingers burned with her excursion into the bright lights of London but she was a still a girl with ambitions that extended beyond an ordinary life in a provincial town. Molly sensed that Hattie had no intentions of settling for a quiet life.

As they stood to leave, Violet caught sight of the doctor in the ward and wanted to find out when Hattie might be well enough to go home. She hurried to catch up with him before he left, leaving Hattie and Molly alone for a moment. Seeing her mother head off in the opposite direction Hattie turned her head and called out, "Molly."

Molly turned around. The girl gestured to Molly to come nearer and she did as she was asked. Hattie looked serious, "There's something I need to tell you and I didn't want to say it in front of Mum,"

If Molly was not mistaken Hattie actually looked embarrassed, something she hadn't seen in the entire time that Hattie had been in Nethercombe. "I've been thinking about what happened on Monday and how good Tom was to come and help me like he did. I heard Mickey thumped him and gave him a black eye." She paused, "He's been pretty nice to me all the time I've been here. He's a really nice bloke and I do like him a lot but I haven't exactly been as nice to him in return. Well, one good favour deserves another. The thing is," she hesitated looking and sounding awkward, "I need to ask if you'll do something for me."

Molly, intrigued by the request replied, "Of course I will if I can. "

X-X-X-X

Molly found the letter without any difficulty, exactly where Hattie said she had placed it on Monday morning before returning to the Village Green. It was hidden from sight on top of the wardrobe and Molly had needed to stand on a chair and reach her hand up to feel around until her fingers touched what she was seeking. As Hattie had said, the letter had been steamed open and looking at the envelope flap hanging loosely, Molly knew how easy it would be to take out the note and read it. The letter Bella had left for her on Monday had been short and to the point but this letter must have some significance. She hadn't needed to write to Tom at all but she had clearly wanted to tell him something. Molly fought the inclination to pry. It was bad enough that Hattie had taken the letter, opened it, read it and then hidden it, without adding to everything by snooping herself. She went downstairs, found some glue in a drawer in the kitchen and resealed the letter before going through to the study. In one of the drawers of Charles' desk she found a slightly larger envelope and addressed it to Tom before adding a short note to explain that the letter had been mislaid on Monday and had been intended for him. As much as it was tempting to tell him the truth of how it had come to be mislaid she felt that Hattie was facing enough difficulties without adding to them. She was going to down to the Village later and if she was lucky she would make the afternoon post.

X-X-X-X

Charles heard the sound of the telephone receiver in the hall being replaced and Molly's footsteps as she returned to the lounge. It was early evening and he was relaxing in an armchair. A small fire had been lit in the grate as the air was still chilly outside despite it being April. It was warm and cosy in here and the time of day that he liked best when the children were bathed and asleep and he and Molly could spend some quiet time together. Violet had a headache, probably brought on by the stress of the last few days and was having a lie down upstairs. Charles found her to be pleasant enough company but he wasn't sorry that it was just the two of them this evening.

He looked up as Molly walked back into the room and saw the astonishment in her face,

"What is it?" he asked.

"You'll never guess who that was."

Charles smiled, "I suppose not unless you tell me."

"Miss Morrison," Molly said. Charles looked blank and Molly clarified, "The President of the W.I."

"Oh," Charles responded thinking it was going to be someone infinitely more interesting than a middle-aged spinster.

Molly stared at him, "She called me to ask if I would come and give the talk at the meeting next week about flying."

Charles remembered Molly telling him about this invitation a couple of weeks ago but after the events of Monday and the disastrous disruption of the Easter Bonnet parade he hadn't expected her to have anything more to do with the Women's Institute let alone go and give a talk there and he voiced his opinion, "I thought it was the last place you wanted to go again, or what was it you said exactly, ah yes, they could stick it where the sun doesn't shine."

Molly sniggered, "Yes, well, at the time I meant that but it seems as if something has changed."

She paused dramatically for effect, "Go on," Charles urged.

"It looks like Lady Wilton has withdrawn her complaint about me and Marjorie and apparently means to apologise to me. She was the one who asked Miss Morrison to invite me back to give the talk. What do you make of that?"

Charles stretched out a hand to her and she accepted the invitation wandering over grasping it and allowing him to gently pull her down to sit on his lap, his arms around her waist. She moved a strand of unruly hair from his forehead and gazed in to his eyes.

"I think I know why Lady Wilton's sorry now," he whispered.

"Do you?" she replied.

"Oh yes," he murmured as his lips moved nearer to hers, "Because she's finally realised what I've known for years," he kissed her, "You're brilliant."

X-X-X-X

"Very well, Miss, six o'clock at the station tonight. I'll make sure he gets the message when he comes back to college later." The sound of the Porter's voice faded and Bella raised her own above the sound of the traffic passing the telephone box on the busy high street saying, "Hello, I'm sorry I didn't catch that," there was a buzz on the line and then the Porter said something else before the line went dead. Bella put down the receiver, pushed opened the door and started to make her way along the road back home.

This morning she had almost been at screaming pitch, the claustrophobic confines of the Dawes home having finally constricted her to the point that she felt she had to escape if only for a few hours. The two years away from here had only served to convince her that she couldn't think of this place as a permanent home anymore. It was sad but inevitable that she had grown up and grown away from them all and she wanted more than this. All week she had been thinking about Peter's invitation to the party in Oxford. At times she had told herself it was a stupid idea and had been determined to stay put but by lunchtime today she could bear it no longer. She had to get away.

Taking the scrap of paper from her handbag she had found the telephone box on the High street and called the Porter's Lodge, as Peter had described it. She supposed it was something like the porters in big hotels or train stations but couldn't see how you could be at a college with such a thing. It all sounded very grand and she fully expected someone to address her in the tone of a Butler. She was relieved, however, that the telephone was answered by a fairly ordinary sounding man who was polite, asked her details and took her message. She had relaxed a little and began to think that maybe everything would be pleasant the way she hoped it would and that she would have a nice time at the party as Peter had promised. However, just as the call was ending there had been the buzz on the line and she had overheard the Porter talking to someone else in the background clearly believing she was no longer on the end of the telephone. It had been a little muffled but she thought he had said, "Another girl for that Wilton boy. Where does he get them from?"

X-X-X-X

The band was too loud and for some reason that he couldn't understand all the songs tonight were irritating Tom.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Tom looked down at the short, plump, fair-haired girl he was holding in his arms as they shuffled around the floor to a waltz and tried to feign a smile, " Of course."

"You could have fooled me," she remarked with no attempt to hide the sarcasm. She was clearly beginning to regret the fact that she had chosen to give Tom the eye when he had walked in to the dancehall earlier in the evening with some of the other lads from the barracks. She'd seen him here before but this was the first time he'd noticed her or asked her to dance. It was disappointing to discover that he was a bit of a cold fish when it came to conversation and as they moved around the floor in the flickering light she noticed that he seemed to have a black eye and wondered if he'd got into a fight. She didn't hold with fighting and her Mum would have a fit if she walked out with anyone who was a bit too handy with his fists. The song came to an end and Tom seeming to remember his manners at last asked if she'd like a drink but to his surprise the girl gave him an appraising look and replied, "No, thanks. You're alright. I've got to go and powder my nose." With that she left him standing in the middle of the dancefloor as it thinned out around him.

He made his way back to his friends and found himself the butt of their jokes for having been abandoned by his partner.

"Looks like you'd better brush up your skills, Tom, 'cos whatever you said to her didn't work." Larry Hennessey, a wise-cracking, Mancunian who claimed to have been mistaken for Burt Lancaster more than once, considered himself something of a ladies man and fancied his chances with any woman under the age of forty five.

"When I want advice, I'll ask for it," Tom remarked, silently adding, "but not from you."

The truth was that he had barely noticed the girl apart from thinking that she looked vaguely familiar and he'd seen her here before. He hadn't been very enthusiastic about coming here tonight when the arrangement had been made over lunch in the mess but now he was here it was the last place he wanted to be. Returning to barracks to change after lunch, an orderly had passed a letter to him that had come in the post that morning. He didn't recognise the handwriting but it was post marked Cirencester and he knew it must be from home. Ripping open the envelope he had been startled to read the note from Molly and then seeing his name written in Bella's handwriting on the second envelope inside he had felt his heart thudding in his chest.

Her words had stayed with him all afternoon, distracting him and making him think about everything that had happened all over again. He had hoped that going out with his mates and dancing with some other girls would help him get everything into perspective but it had only emphasised more strongly than ever that his feelings for Bella wouldn't be ignored. He was in no mood for dancing with girls that he didn't care about and although he'd had a couple of pints they hadn't helped lift his mood.

He leaned towards Nevil Canning, one of the more conservative members of the group, and raising his voice to be heard above the loud hum of conversation called, "I'm off out of here. I'm not in the mood for this tonight."

Nevil was surprised. It was only nine o'clock and Tom normally enjoyed a night out with the lads.

"Don't tell the others. I'll just slip away." He turned and made as if he was off to visit the Gents but instead made his way out of the main entrance and breathing in the cooler air outside, strolled in the direction of the bus stop intending to return to barracks. As he walked, he thought about the letter again. It was in the breast pocket of his tunic. It was only a short note but he'd read it so many times he had committed it to memory.

 _Dear Tom_

 _I'm writing this because I'm leaving to go back to London and I didn't want to go without saying goodbye and explaining what happened. I'm so sorry that everything between us has gone so wrong and that we couldn't agree. I know you are angry with me and I can understand why but I need you to know that what you said at the church on Good Friday was wrong. There was nothing between me and Peter Wilton then, not the way you think, anyway. I wouldn't have done anything like that to you. Me and Peter were friends and I don't really know what will happen in the future because nothing will ever be the same as it was with you but I don't think I can stay here with everyone blaming me. I know I'm not your Mum and Dad's favourite person at the moment and I'm really sorry to have upset them so much because they've both been so lovely to me. I suppose that's where you get it from. Please try to forgive me. I might visit Nethercombe again one day and I'd like to think that you wouldn't hate me and we could still be friends because you're the best friend I've ever had and I'll miss you._

 _Bella_

The truth of it all was that her words had set him thinking about what he had said and done and he knew her well enough to believe she was telling the truth. He realised that he'd been eaten up with jealousy and desperate to blame what had gone wrong on someone else when he should have been looking more closely at himself. Was it just wishful thinking or was she trying to send him a message? She was right. Everyone had been blaming her and that included him. It wasn't fair. As much as he disliked and distrusted Peter Wilton, it wasn't surprising that Bella would have preferred spending time with someone who was being nice to her and not picking an argument. Peter would have to be a simpleton not to appreciate the loveliness of Bella. Then it struck him with the clarity that had been missing for far too long; he was a simpleton for ever having let her go.

He stopped in his tracks, distracted by the sound of a train nearby and realised he was standing opposite the station. It was after nine in the evening and he only had a pass until midnight but it became clear to him what he needed to do. Almost without thinking he crossed the road and made his way into the station.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

Peter was on the platform to meet Bella. She saw him as the train drew into Oxford station. He was leaning casually against one of the ironwork pillars, hands in his pockets, hair a little unruly. He looked every inch the university student in his baggy trousers and tweed jacket, a college scarf draped around his neck. As Bella stepped down from the train Peter hastily gathered himself and strode along the platform towards her. It was busy and he kissed her on the cheek before grasping her arm and steering her through the crowds of commuters.

"You look lovely," he said, glancing appreciatively at her. She was wearing the red dress, the one she thought a little too daring for the Young Farmer's Dance although catching sight of Peter looking so casual in comparison, she wondered if she had made a mistake in her choice, "Am I too smart?"

He shook his head, "Of course not, you're perfect."

As they left the station Bella turned to Peter and said, "It's not too far from here is it, Peter? Only I've got to get the train back at eleven."

Peter glanced at her taking in this information and then nodded, "No, not far." His tone was non-committal and Bella decided to say nothing more on the subject. Without a doubt he had heard her and must know what she meant.

Bella had thought long and hard about tonight. As much as she was desperate to get away from home for a while she couldn't throw all her sense away because she was bored and unhappy. The time away from Nethercombe and away from Peter had made her think about her relationship with him in a way that hadn't been possible before. She had heard a lot about him from different people when she was in Nethercombe but had seen nothing in his behaviour towards her to support all the snipes and comments. She wanted to dismiss everything as jealousy or prejudice but her head was telling her not to be stupid. She liked Peter. She knew she was attracted to him but would have to play things differently from here. The words she had overheard from the Porter on the telephone were still at the back of her mind. She didn't know what it meant. It could have been very innocent. Peter must know a lot of girls, both socially and amongst his fellow students. She shouldn't jump to conclusions but she couldn't forget it either.

Telling Peter that she needed to leave at eleven was Bella's way of making sure he knew how the land lay, or so she hoped. Her parents however, were not expecting her back until tomorrow. She'd told them she was staying with a friend because she didn't want to tell them the truth about why she was going to Oxford or who she was meeting. She had reasoned that she could always make up an excuse as to why she had come home earlier but if she told them she was meeting a man so far from home she could guess their reaction. Telling lies was never a good idea and a little voice in her head whispered to her that she was playing with fire but she tried to close her ears to the sound. She had made her decision and she was here now.

Peter took her arm and together they headed into town.

"We're meeting at The King's Arms and then going on to Oliver's party," he informed her.

"Who's Oliver?" Bella asked.

Peter turned to look at her, "Oliver Waterford-Davies. He's something of a radical."

"A what?" Bella said.

"You know, free-thinking. Doesn't believe in any of this stuffy class business. He thinks we should do away with the monarchy and Britain should become a republic."

Bella stared at Peter, "Is he a communist?"

Peter laughed, "No, Bella, he just thinks the world should be fairer place. Don't you?"

Bella shrugged, "I suppose so. Not sure about getting rid of the Queen, though. She's so young and everything. I think we should give her a chance she's only been on the throne a couple of months and if she's anything like her Dad she'll be great."

Peter seemed amused by this, "You and Oliver should have a chat. It could be interesting."

Bella wasn't sure if she liked the sound of Oliver or the fact that Peter thought introducing her to a friend of his would be entertaining. They walked on in silence and she was glad of his arm. He might have thought it wasn't far when they left the station to walk into town but by the time they entered The King's Arms her feet were killing her.

The pub was already quite crowded with students and there was a loud hum of conversation. Peter looked around him and spotting a crowd in the far corner, he grasped Bella's hand and started to push his way through. The group consisted of mostly young men, dressed in a similar fashion to Peter, pint glasses in hands and talking animatedly in public school accents on subjects ranging from politics to rowing. Amongst them were a few girls, none of whom were dressed like Bella, preferring a rather more casual look. She was aware of one or two glances in her direction and began to feel a little uncomfortable. She clearly looked nothing like a student.

At the centre of the group was one girl who seemed to be holding court. Flame-haired, expensively dressed, albeit in a cleverly under-stated fashion, she regarded Peter and Bella through narrowed, amber eyes, watching them approach like a Tiger waiting to pounce on her prey.

Peter leaned across and said, "Nancy, how lovely to see you. Meet Bella," He gestured to her and Nancy regarded her with curiosity, her head inclined to one side, the corners of her mouth twitching with the suggestion of a smile.

"Hello Bella." Her voice was surprisingly rich and mellow in tone. She held out her hand and Bella took it, noting that the handshake was nothing more than a cool, public gesture rather than a warm welcome, "So you're Peter's mystery girl. We've all been wondering about you."

Bella felt uncomfortable. Everyone's eyes were turned on her. She felt her face growing warm, "No mystery really." She knew that they had noted her east-end vowels. Their eyes betrayed them.

"Oh, everyone's a mystery. None of us truly know anyone else, do we?" Bella sensed that no answer was required and gave an awkward half-smile in response.

Peter, very much at home in the crowd and clearly the life and soul of this group, took orders and headed to the bar leaving Bella with Nancy, two other girls called Veronica and Judy and several young men who were very much interchangeable in looks, accent and manner. Nancy was talking to Judy about a seminar they had attended that morning and Bella at a loss to know what they were talking about felt she had nothing to contribute. Thankfully she found herself addressed by a familiar voice, "Hello Bella," she turned to see Max heading her way, smiling and genuinely pleased to see her. It was good to see at least one familiar face.

"God, where's Peter, left you on your own already. How remiss of him," Max craned his neck to see over the heads of those in the crowded bar, "Should have guessed he'd be buying drinks," he turned back to Bella, "He's never one to let anyone's glass go empty."

A few minutes later Peter returned with the drinks and Bella sipped her glass of Port and Lemon, grateful that it gave her something to do as she listened to the conversation. Peter was having a lively discussion with a young man who she learned from Max, was Oliver. He was insisting that the only answer to the ills of the working classes was a full scale revolution like Russia in 1917. Peter was arguing against such extreme measures and Nancy threw in the opinion that the French Revolution had resulted in a fairer society that hadn't led to communism like Russia. Bella didn't understand everything they were talking about and feeling left out and bored began to wonder at Peter's description of his friends being a 'great crowd' when suddenly she found herself addressed by Nancy.

"What do you think, Bella?"

Bella shrugged, "What about?"

"Revolution versus Republic," Nancy stated as if it should have been obvious to Bella and then seeing the confused look on her face explained, "It seems as though we're all arguing about the rights of the working class but no one's asked someone who would really know. What do you think?"

Now she knew the true reason Nancy had asked her and she didn't think it was because her opinion was important, "Doesn't matter does it?"

Nancy looked surprised, "Don't you care about the way the working class has been repressed in this country."

Bella didn't like the way Nancy had spoken to her as if she had committed a cardinal sin in not caring and countered, "I'm not repressed by anyone, as you put it," and casting around for some sort of argument hit on, "My Dad's been on sick pay from the union for years so it can't be all that bad."

To her embarrassment, Nancy laughed and one or two other's joined in. Turning to Peter Nancy mouthed, "She's priceless, Peter." Bella saw Peter appear to smile in reply and couldn't help feeling annoyed. She'd thought he'd invited her to a party not to a pub to be made fun of by his friends. She stepped back a little way and finished her drink, quickly finding it replenished by Max. After consuming a couple of drinks she found she cared less about the looks or opinions of the rest of the group and thankfully they appeared to have moved onto another subject which didn't require her involvement. When they finally got ready to leave thirty minutes later she was relieved as she hadn't enjoyed this interlude very much.

As Bella was putting on her coat, Peter came over and stood next to her sliding his arm around her waist and giving her a reassuring squeeze. He leaned towards her and said, "Alright?"

Bella's face told the story and sensing his friends had been more strident in their opinions then he had expected Peter said, "Don't mind them. They just get a bit excited. They really are more fun than you might think."

Bella turned her head to look at Peter, "That Nancy doesn't like me, does she?"

Peter shrugged, "I'm not sure she likes anyone, really. It's just her way. Forget it."

But Bella couldn't forget it. Whenever she looked in Nancy's direction she seemed to find her gaze fixed upon her and Bella's sixth sense told her that in Nancy's eyes she was a problem.

X-X-X-X

It was half-past ten before Tom managed to locate the house. The journey to Charing Cross had only taken thirty minutes and having studied the underground map he had managed to negotiate his way to East Ham. He remembered Molly talking about sheltering in an underground station near the Dawes home during the Blitz and headed there reckoning that it must be within a few minutes' walk of their home. Emerging onto the High Street he spotted the Earl of Wakefield Public House and knew from Bella that it was only just around the corner. He wandered along the High street for a hundred yards and then was fortunate to meet a policeman on his beat who gave him the final directions.

Now that Tom was outside Bella's house he felt butterflies in his stomach. He had been too busy on the way here thinking about how to find the street, estimating how long the journey would take and vaguely, at the back of his mind, wondering how much trouble he would be in for not returning to barracks by midnight. He had gambled that turning up early tomorrow morning and making up an excuse about a woman and having drunk a few too many might result in a none too harsh penalty. He'd probably be put on a charge and given fatigues but if he was penitent and gave them no lip it wouldn't matter too much particularly as he'd be leaving for good in a couple of months. He wouldn't be the first soldier to return late from a pass and he wouldn't be the last. It was only now that he was outside Bella's home that he began to wonder what he should say to her. When he'd read the note he'd wanted to believe that she was trying to say something to him but if he was mistaken there might be a very awkward scene. He hesitated before knocking on the door, but then his heart told him that the answer was very simple; he loved Bella and he was sorry. Nothing else was necessary.

He rapped smartly at the door and waited, hoping that everyone hadn't gone to bed. A minute or two went by and he stepped back to gaze up at the windows above. He saw a light in the front bedroom window and then heard the sound of feet on the stairs. The door was pulled open, making a rasping sound as the paint stuck. It was Dave dressed in his trousers and vest, his braces hanging loose by his side, clearly getting ready for bed. He stared at Tom in complete, undisguised surprise, "Blimey, fancy seeing you, son."

Tom stepped forward, "I'm really sorry for calling so late, Mr Dawes, but I need to talk to Bella."

Dave shook his head, "You can't, son, she's not here." He could see Tom was confused and stepping back said, "Come in. Let's not keep the neighbours awake."

Tom walked into the house and Dave ushered him into the front parlour.

"Who is it?" a woman's voice called down the stairs.

Dave poked his head out of the room and called back, "It's Bella's chap, Tom."

They heard the sound of footsteps and then Betty appeared in the doorway, hair loose and hanging down, face devoid of make-up and her candlewick dressing gown pulled around her.

"Hello, Tom, love," she said, her tone warm and friendly although evidently surprised, "Is everything alright?"

There was no hiding the fact but Tom was crestfallen. The fact that Bella wasn't here was something he hadn't even considered.

"I came to see Bella, but I know she's not here, now."

"She's gone to visit a friend. Won't be back until tomorrow," Betty informed him, "But you could stay here and wait for her until tomorrow if you like."

Tom was touched by their kindness but shook his head, "I'll have to get back. I'm sorry that I barged in."

Betty could see the disappointment in his face. The lad looked truly despondent and she was sorry for him. There was a moment's silence and then trying to console him she said, "I'll bet she'll be really sorry to have missed you," she leaned towards him, "To be honest she didn't seem all that keen on going to that party tonight, especially with it being in Oxford."

"Oxford?" Tom repeated.

Betty nodded, "That's right. Actually, she seemed a bit worried about it, although being Bella she tried to pretend it was all fine. But I know her. She might act like it's all water off a duck's back but she thinks about things, she always has."

Tom was staring at Betty, barely taking in her words. The moment she had mentioned Oxford his attention had been fully focused on her.

"You're sure it was Oxford?" he asked again.

"Oh yes," Dave said joining in, "She had to go and look up the timetable."

"Did she say who the friend was?" Tom asked.

Betty shook her head, "No, I don't think she did, love. She said we wouldn't know them. A friend from up your way, I think, but like I said, she didn't seem to think she was going to enjoy it. Actually, she said something a bit odd as she was leaving," Betty paused trying to recall Bella's exact words, "She said, 'I know I'm probably making a mistake but I'd rather do that than stay here and do nothing'. A bit dramatic for a party I thought but to be honest she's been a bit odd since she came back on Monday. Down in the dumps, like. You don't know what it's all about do you?"

Tom listened in silence. He knew the moment Betty had mentioned Oxford that Bella had gone to see Peter. He remembered the words in her letter to him, _'I don't really know what will happen in the future'._ It didn't sound from what her mother had said that she was full of joy at the thought of going to see him. He closed his eyes for a second. This was all his doing. She would never have looked in Peter's direction if he'd behaved differently, thought about her feelings and realised how much his decisions affected her. He'd been selfish, thinking of what he wanted in the future. It was only now that he'd lost Bella that he realised how much she meant to him.

Betty had said Bella was coming back tomorrow. Tom felt a cold hand creep around his heart. Could she really be contemplating staying in Oxford with Peter? He and Bella had never done anything more than kiss and hold each other close apart from a rather innocent fumble on a picnic last summer which had ended when they both felt that there was a danger in letting things go too far. Could she really be thinking of throwing everything away on someone like Peter Wilton? Tom knew him too well. He knew all about Hannah Blackwood and a number of other indiscretions which had been hinted at down at the Cricket club after a few too many beers were consumed at the end of the Midsummer local derby match with Cookham. He'd known all these things but natural discretion, a misplaced deference to the Wilton family and the simple fact of neither Tom nor Peter having been in Nethercombe for much of the last two years, had stopped him from mentioning them. No matter what Peter might say to Bella to the contrary, Tom couldn't believe that it would end well.

"You alright, son?" Dave asked seeing the serious look on Tom's face. Tom looked at Bella's parents. They weren't perfect. He knew that. Bella had told Tom often enough about Dave's workshy attitude to life and the uneasy shifting relationship between him and Betty but looking at them now he saw two people who loved their daughter and had no idea how her life might be ruined very soon. He made up his mind.

"Yes, I'm alright but I've got to go. It was nice to see you. Sorry about it being so late."

Dave shrugged, "Fair enough, son. We'll tell Bella you were here."

Tom made his way out of the house and headed as quickly as he could back to the underground station. It was a long shot and he'd probably make himself look ridiculous but Bella's words to her mother were echoing in his mind. He'd rather make a mistake than stay here and do nothing.

X-X-X-X

Oliver's digs were nothing like Bella could have imagined. She knew that Peter and Max and many of the others had rooms in their colleges but Oliver lived in far greater style than any of them. His father, a wealthy industrialist, had provided him with a very well appointed apartment in town, close to the colleges and ideal for socialising on a scale that regularly took place.

Everything for the party had been prepared before the group arrived and they were quickly joined by lots of others. The large rooms were soon filled with laughing, chattering young people, records were being played on a gramophone and a space had even been cleared for dancing. Finally, amongst the large numbers, Bella began to relax. She sipped a drink and listened to some of Peter's friends telling amusing stories, she was introduced to lots of others who seemed to like her. A few of the girls complimented her on her dress and she saw one or two of the young men throw envious glances in Peter's direction. He stayed close by her, an arm around her waist just as much to reassure her he was there as to let everyone else know she was with him. Bella was enjoying the company and enjoying being with Peter and at least in such a crowd she was no longer under the direct scrutiny of Nancy.

She began to enjoy herself and was persuaded to try a rather unusual cocktail which Peter brought her telling her it was one of Oliver's specialities and he wanted to know her opinion but it was better not to ask what it contained. Someone turned up the music and Peter asked her to dance. They shuffled around with a few other couples doing a poor imitation of a foxtrot, a waltz and even a jitterbug which resulted in much laughter but little skill, before finding themselves a dark, quiet corner in which to sit together. Bella felt lightheaded but happy. Peter had been right that unlike the group in the pub, many of the young people here were amusing and fun, talked to her and made her feel welcome.

"Would you like a drink madam?" Bella looked up to see a girl of about her own age, carrying a tray of drinks around. In the other room she could see two more offering drinks and canapes to the guests. She and Peter took a drink and then Bella, thinking of Oliver's conversation in the pub, couldn't help saying, "For someone who talks a lot about the repression of the working classes, Oliver doesn't seem to mind employing them to help at his party."

"Yes," Peter said, sounding relaxed, "I don't think he practises what he preaches or only when it suits."

"So, he's not a man of principles then?" Bella said laughing at her own attempt to sound intelligent.

Peter laughed too, "No more than any other man I know."

They sat in companionable silence for a while drinking then Bella felt a tingle on the skin of her upper arm and looking to her right saw that Peter was gently caressing her arm, brushing the back of his hand slowly up and down and watching her, "I'm glad you're here," he murmured, "I was worried actually, that you might not come."

She smiled, "I said I would and it's interesting, Peter."

He laughed, "Only Interesting?" He leaned nearer to her and dropping his voice said, "I'd like to make it more fun for you if I could."

Bella looked into his eyes and saw undisguised desire written there. She didn't know whether this had been his intention all along or it was just the drink talking. She tried to brush the remark aside, "Well, I can't stay any later than eleven, Peter. Don't forget I've got to get the train."

He heard the nervous inflection in her voice and said slowly and deliberately as if wishing to reassure a child, "You don't have to go, Bella. I'd love you to stay… with me."

The sound of his voice as he spoke to her sent a tingle down her spine. She caught her breath unsteadily as she gazed into his eyes. She had thought so long about this and now it all seemed so easy. He wanted her and she wanted him. What could be wrong with that?

He saw the look on her face and seemed to know what she was feeling. Seizing the moment he reached for her hand, stood up and swiftly led her through the groups of people gathered in the room, heading for the front door. Bella allowed herself to be led, telling herself that for once she shouldn't think and just let herself do whatever she felt was right.

They found Bella's coat on the stand by the door and slipped outside without a word to anyone else. Leading her down the dimly lit staircase Peter paused for a second half-way down and standing on the step below turned to look at her his face now level with hers. Without a word he pulled her to him, his hips pressed against hers, hands slipping beneath her coat, holding her fast against him and kissing her with an intensity that left her in no doubt of his feelings. Pausing for breath, still in his arms and feeling almost giddy from emotion, Bella was aware of the smell of cigarette smoke and then a familiar voice broke the silence.

"Sorry to disturb you lovebirds,"

Nancy was standing directly below then at the foot of the stairs, wine glass in one hand, cigarette in the other and she wasn't smiling. Peter released Bella and turned to look at Nancy. As he turned Bella caught a flash of annoyance in his expression.

"What is it?"

"I need to get past and you're in my way," the truculent note in Nancy's voice alerted Bella to something she knew had been there from the moment she arrived at The King's Head. Nancy was annoyed with both of them.

"Be my guest," Peter said stepping to one side and hands still on Bella's waist, bodily moving her as well. Bella could tell that he wanted Nancy to go away and he avoided looking at her as she approached them.

"Mmh," Nancy said waving her glass to one side and spilling some of the contents as she sashayed up the stairs towards them, "Well I'm clearly not your guest anymore." She looked pointedly at Bella as she drew level and lowered her voice in a theatrical gesture aimed to exclude Peter, "Just a word of advice, Bella. Never tell him you love him or you won't see him for dust." She sauntered past and reaching the landing opened the door and returned to the party without another backward glance.

"I'm sorry," Peter said at once, "Nancy's drunk and making mischief. Just ignore her." He kissed Bella lightly on the lips and taking her hand said, "Come on."

He led her out of the building onto the street. It was dark and a cold wind was blowing in their faces. He took her arm in his and steered her through a maze of cobbled streets and alleyways. Bella had no idea where they were going and as they walked she began to realise how much she had drunk. Her body felt weary, her shoes slipped on the uneven surface and the dim, street-lamp lit world seemed distant and unconnected with her yet her mind was beginning to clear. When they reached the gateway to an old building through which Bella could glimpse a quadrangle beyond with a square of neatly mown lawn, Peter whispered to her to be quiet and asked her to wait outside for a moment while he disappeared through the gateway. He was gone for a couple of minutes.

Bella stood alone with her back to the ancient stone wall, using its strength to steady herself as she listened to the wind whistling around the roofs. She wondered what she was doing. Perversely, in spite of never having experienced this sensation before, she knew she was drunk. It was strange that instead of rambling incoherently as she had supposed she would, her mind was strangely clear and focused. This was why she had felt so much emotion whilst at the party with Peter, why she had stopped worrying about everything and why she had just gone with him without a moment's hesitation. However, standing alone in the cool air, hearing the clock in a church nearby chime a quarter to the hour, she remembered Nancy's words to her on the stairs, the tone of her voice, the annoyance in Peter's expression as he looked at her and most importantly what Nancy had said.

She felt someone grasp her hand and saw that Peter had returned. He whispered, "Come this way now and don't say anything," He led her past a small empty office into the courtyard. They made their way across to the far side and opening a wooden door he led her up a narrow flight of stairs and then along a corridor before stopping in front of a door. He pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocking the door, ushering her inside.

The room was lit by a harsh overhead electric bulb. Bella looked around her at the bookshelves filled with novels and text books, the desk covered in papers and an ink stand, the family photographs on the mantelpiece over the small grate, the worn armchair and threadbare carpet that had clearly graced this room for at least thirty years and knew these were Peter's college rooms. To their right was the door to another room and it was standing ajar; his bedroom.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

Peter stood in the open doorway that led to his bedroom, one hand resting on the handle. Through the door Bella could see his bed. It hadn't been made. Sheets and blankets were strewn around and an indentation on the pillows was still clearly visible where his head had lain. She looked at him. His face was serious and his intent clear. He held out his hand to her, inviting her to go with him.

Bella froze. She thought again of Nancy and the look Peter had thrown her as she passed him on the stairs, the way Nancy had addressed her, her attitude towards Bella earlier in the evening in the pub, the comment from the Porter on the telephone this morning that she had overheard and the things others had said about Peter. The scales fell from her eyes. She was being an utter fool.

"I can't," she said at last lifting her eyes to meet his.

"But you'd like to," he replied and Bella wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement. She refused to think about what her feelings might have been if nothing else had happened to make her question the honesty of what was happening between them.

"It's wrong," Bella said, "I shouldn't have come here. Not with you now or to Oxford at all."

Peter moved towards her and reaching out his hand began to gently stroke her cheek with one finger, "You know, sometimes you have to just accept the truth. It isn't wrong to give in to your feelings," his voice was low and persuasive and he leaned towards her, his movements slow and assured. His lips met hers, the pressure soft, almost teasing at first. He moved closer to her his arms encircling her waist, his kisses becoming more insistent as he sought a response from her.

Bella didn't move. She didn't touch him, kiss him or respond to him in anyway. She felt his arms around her but the still, small voice of reason was telling her that this wasn't right. She saw Peter open his eyes and they stared at each other. He released her and stepped away running his fingers through his hair, trying to compose himself.

"What's the matter?" he asked clearly ruffled by what had just happened.

Bella looked directly at him, "You said that Nancy was making mischief earlier but I'm not really that stupid, Peter. She was talking about you and her, wasn't she?"

She didn't mean it to sound like an accusation but Peter sighed and looked annoyed, "It was last year and it was nothing."

Bella shook her head, "Not to her."

"She's just being dramatic, " he replied stepping closer, "Because she likes to be the centre of attention. You must have noticed that."

"She loved you, didn't she," Bella pressed on, "No wonder she didn't like me when I walked into the pub."

"It was nothing, " Peter insisted again trying to reach for her hand but she moved it away. "It was just a short fling in the summer term, a bit of fun and then it was over. We've been friends ever since and she was perfectly happy. Please, Bella, don't let this spoil a lovely evening."

In her mind Bella heard other voices: the stories from Nethercombe, the distrust expressed by Penny and Frank Statham, by Marjorie, Molly and Tom. She looked at Peter and shook her head, "You certainly didn't think the evening was over yet, did you Peter? That's why we're here."

"I care about you, Bella," Peter insisted, "I thought you cared about me."

She noted his choice of words and remembered Nancy's warning. He wasn't going to say that he loved her and she didn't think she was about to make an irrevocable decision based on someone telling her they 'cared' about her. "I'm sorry, Peter, the evening's over now. I'm going home."

He shook his head, "You can't"

"Why not?" Bella retorted.

He exhaled and looked slightly uneasy, "Because it's midnight and there aren't any more trains tonight." He seemed more in control of himself now, "Why don't you just relax and sit down. I'll get you a drink and we can talk about this."

Bella stared at him. He'd known full well that she needed to leave to catch the train and she couldn't help thinking that he'd deliberately plied her with drinks, taken her to his rooms and made sure she couldn't get home. She shook her head at her own stupidity feeling more sad than angry, "They all warned me but I thought they were wrong and that I knew you better, but I didn't."

Peter's expression changed, "Who? Young Tom? Been telling you tales from the cricket club has he?" She heard scorn in his voice, "but you still came here, anyway."

Bella didn't like the tone of his voice. She heard annoyance mixed with bitterness as he said, "Why exactly did you come here, Bella?"

She couldn't answer. She was unable to describe how lost and foolish she felt at this moment. He could see her on the verge of tears and struggling for an explanation. He cast her a long look and then said very quietly, "I'll tell you, Bella. I don't think you could help yourself. Was that it? Maybe you thought you'd teach Tom Stimpson a lesson," he paused. "Or perhaps you came here to let me teach you a lesson, one that young Tom hasn't managed yet."

It was a step too far and he saw the anger in Bella's eyes as the meaning of his words hit home. She spoke at last, "I should have known better than to come looking for someone like you. How could you say that? You're disgusting."

"I'm sorry, " Peter said at once.

Bella nodded, "Well, not as sorry as I am for not listening to Tom in the first place," she turned around and walked to the door. As she reached it Peter called out to her, "Bella?" she paused but couldn't look at him. She was waiting for the inevitable apology or excuse but to her surprise he offered neither, "Give Tom my regards when you see him and thank him for the loan." He saw her take a deep breath, clearly trying to bite back any retort and then she grasped the handle of the door, threw it open and was gone.

Peter walked slowly to the open door, his heart thudding painfully in his chest and stepped out into the hall. He watched Bella hurrying away from him, unsteady on her feet, the click of her heels echoing through the ancient stone hallways announcing her illegal presence. He knew he should stop her for her own sake but what could he do now? She wasn't going to listen and she wasn't coming back. He whistled under his breath, "Oh Peter you fool, it looks as if she's the one who got away."

In spite of his regrets a rueful smile spread across Peter's face as he thought of all the things he could have told her if she had stayed and listened when he had asked her: the story of how he had loved Hannah Blackwood and neither his parents nor her family would accept the situation. The fact that she was in the family way and he wanted to marry her had counted for nothing. Being only nineteen at the time, his mother and father had dismissed it as ridiculous and refused to give permission and Hannah's father had sent her away to avoid the shame. He had heard that the child had been adopted and Hannah had hastily met and married someone else and never returned. Perhaps Bella would have pitied him or felt some compassion for him had she known the truth of that story. He could have told her that Nancy drank too much too often, was bordering on neurotic and was far too much work for any man to cope with for more than a short while which would have explained the brevity of their relationship and his apparent heartlessness. He paused however, to consider the memory of the gangly, innocent eighteen year old lad, seduced by the bored middle-aged wife of a local businessman who he'd met at the Tennis Club in the summer before his final year at school. Perhaps that was one he felt less inclined to share. He hadn't been an entirely unwilling participant and although he didn't feel that he could be blamed for accepting what was on offer it didn't necessarily show him a good light. A girl like Bella wouldn't understand that. As for the debutante, well, after one rather drunken, ill-advised night together he'd almost had to fight her attentions off with a stick. Her parents had quickly realised that sending her to a remote finishing school in Switzerland with no access to any male under the age of sixty was the only way to preserve the family honour and the sooner they found her a husband to keep her under control the better. He could have told Bella any or all of these stories in his defence but the problem was that Bella's innate sense of truthfulness and honesty would never allow her to trust him again. Give a dog a bad name, he thought, "And mine is philanderer."

He had tried to free her from the influence of Nethercombe and had desperately wanted to show her another side to him but he was impulsive. That had always been his weakness. He had moved too fast and ruined everything. Now he'd let her walk away thinking the worst of him and making it so easy for her to hate and forget him. He shook his head at his own folly, "Damn it. I must be developing a conscience. I might even get mistaken for a Gentleman one day."

As Bella disappeared from sight and descended the stairs to the quadrangle, Peter could still smell her scent in the air and knew that the memory of kissing her would haunt him. If she had given him even the tiniest hint of a response everything could have been completely different. He wouldn't be watching her leave and she wouldn't be consigning him to the past with every step away from him that she took. He exhaled, shook his head and wondered at himself. Bella had got under his skin. From the first moment he had seen her at the Young Farmers' Dance he had realised that he was hooked. He had made a flippant remark about catching her but in truth she had caught him. He couldn't escape and she would never know it.

Bella was destined for a different life and Peter tried to tell himself it would be a better one without him. He was sure that his weaknesses would have eventually put paid to any chance of long-term happiness with her but at this moment all he knew was that he wouldn't forget Bella Dawes in a very long while.

X-X-X-X

Bella descended the stairs, pulled opened the door to the quadrangle and let herself out, still furious at having been so stupid. She walked unsteadily not caring how much noise she made on the stone paths, her footsteps echoing around the walls of the courtyard. She found the gateway she and Peter had come through and emerged onto the street. She looked briefly around her, conscious that the world seemed blurry but was determined to walk away although still too angry to consider where she was going. She had covered almost a quarter of a mile before it occurred to her that she was completely lost. She had paid very little attention when she had walked here with Peter, her head too woolly to gather a sense of direction. It was dark, cold, deserted and she had nowhere to go apart from back to Peter. At this moment wild horses wouldn't drag her in his direction. She sank down onto a low wall and felt the tears start to well up in her eyes. What on earth was she going to do?

X-X-X-X

It had been close to midnight when Tom had arrived at Paddington station and discovered that he couldn't get a train through to Oxford that night. He had wondered at that point whether to give up. He was probably on a wild goose chase and by now he was definitely in a lot of trouble with the army. However, if anyone was worth being in trouble for it was Bella. Although his heart was sinking at the prospect of what he might find out if he carried on his journey, he decided to head as far as he could tonight and boarded the midnight departure for Reading. When he reached Reading he would try to find some other way of getting to Oxford. He kept telling himself that he had to do something rather than nothing however futile it felt and then he thought of his father. Robert had told him last week to get after Bella and put things right between them but he hadn't heeded the advice. If anyone would understand what he was trying to do now it would be Robert. He settled back in his seat feeling weary. It had been a long day and it wasn't over yet, but he was resolute in his determination to find Bella.

X-X-X-X

"Are you alright?" the woman's voice sounded familiar.

Bella looked up and in the light of the street lamp recognised the drinks waitress from the party probably on her way back home.

"Not really," Bella said wiping a tear away, "I've missed my last train home, I don't know where I am and I've nowhere to go."

There was silence for a moment and Bella supposed the girl was embarrassed and feeling awkward but to her surprise she said, "You were at the party weren't you? Thought I saw you with a dark-haired chap."

"That's right," Bella said, "Only we've have words, so I'm on my own now."

The girl shook her head, "Well, you can't stay here, it's not safe. Look, I'm just round the corner. You can bunk in with me if you like only you'll have to be quiet or my landlady will have my guts for garters. She doesn't like us to have visitors."

Bella stared at her, "Are you sure?"

The girl smiled, "Come on, before I change my mind. I'm Ruth, by the way."

Bella stood up, wobbling a bit as she did and introduced herself before adding, "Thank you, so much. I've been a bit of an idiot."

"Over that chap?" Ruth asked.

Bella nodded, feeling all too clearly the influence of too many drinks, "Yes, a total idiot." Up close Bella could see that the girl was older than her. She nodded and gave a knowing smile. She had a reassuring manner and tucked her arm through Bella's to steady her.

"Show me the woman who hasn't been an idiot at some time over a man. We've all been there, love. Now let's get you off the street and you can start being sensible tomorrow."

X-X-X-X

Bella sat alone on a bench at the far end of the platform. The London train wasn't due for another half hour. It was six thirty in the morning, the sky was grey and overcast, a chilly wind was whistling through the station and there was drizzle in the air. It was hard to believe it was spring. She would have sat in the waiting room but for the fact it had been crowded by a group of students heading for a political rally in London and more than anything she wanted to be on her own.

She had woken early whilst it was still dark, the hardness of the floor on which she was lying digging into her hips and shoulders making it difficult to sleep. Her left leg was numb from pressure. She had rolled onto her back and tried to bring life back into her limbs before throwing off the blanket and sitting up. Her head had thumped with pain reminding her, not for the first time, what a bad idea it had been to drink so much last night. She heard the sound of creaking bed springs and Ruth turning over in bed before saying in a sleepy voice, "It's five thirty and I've got to be out by six. You'd best leave with me." By quarter past six Bella had reached the station, bought her ticket and made her way along the platform to wait for the train.

In the cold light of day, the full misery of her situation was crushing her and she found herself fighting to contain her tears. How could she have been so utterly blinded and so stupid as to chase after a man like Peter Wilton? She had known from the start, the minute she had first clapped eyes on him, that he was trouble. She had been warned but paid no heed and now she was paying the price. It seemed to her that she had lost everything, including in the last few days, her own self-respect. What kind of girl would drink too much and go to a man's rooms like that after so many hints that he was playing fast and loose with her and was not to be trusted? Someone with more self-respect would have left long before then. She sighed. Someone with common sense would never have come to Oxford or left Nethercombe.

She was back where she had been almost two years ago; jobless, single and dissatisfied with everything life had to offer. She had given up her life in Nethercombe, the countryside she loved, the home with Charles and Molly, the friendship of Robert and Marjorie and, worst of all, the love of Tom simply because she couldn't or wouldn't see everything from a different point of view and appreciate that he wanted a chance to experience a new life too. He had never said that he didn't love her or want her. He had just wanted a chance to live a little before he returned to Nethercombe one day and she was certain now that he would have returned to his roots, his family and to her. At this last thought her lip began to tremble and the tears began to flow in earnest. She bent her head forward, raised her hands to cover her face and allowed her misery to wash over her. It was too late. She had ruined everything.

X-X-X-X

Tom stood in the corridor of the third class carriage, his face pressed up close to the window, anxiously waiting for the train to stop. He had been lucky that on leaving Reading station an army truck was passing and had stopped to offer him a lift. He had glossed over his reasons for being out so late, saying that he was on his way home on leave and had missed the last train. They had accepted the story. By the time the army truck had dropped him at Didcot station it was two in the morning, the waiting room was locked and he had no choice but to huddle up on a bench under the parapet at the front of the station and wait for the Station Master to arrive and open up in the morning. It had been a long chilly wait but he had finally boarded the train to Oxford just after six o'clock eager to get there and try to find Bella. During the long, sleepless night he had racked his brains for anything that might help and remembered that he had once heard Peter mention the name of his college. He determined to start his search there.

The first train was the local service stopping at all the stations en route. Tom had been forced to endure each stop, watching passengers slowly getting on and off the train, struggling with luggage or lack of mobility. Each time he willed the guard to blow the whistle and send the train on its way. The weather had turned and as the train approached its final destination, splashes of rain from the open window started to fall on his face. He raised a hand to wipe the dampness away and caught sight of the end of the platform coming into view. By the time the train had ground to a screeching halt, Tom had moved to wait at the door, keen to alight and be on his way.

He stepped down and looked around to get his bearings. He had never been here before and it struck him now that he had little idea which way to go. A stream of passengers was making its way up over the wooden bridge to the other side and the main station buildings. He followed them and decided to ask for directions from the ticket office. As he reached the far side he heard the Guard calling out that the London train was approaching. There were already some passengers on the platform and as he walked towards the ticket hall he was pushed back by a group of students, some with placards, heading out to wait for the train. He heard the rattle of the rails and looking to his left saw the plume of steam from the engine. It was about a hundred yards from the far end of the platform and he watched it for a few seconds. He had always liked trains and considered it a pity that Nethercombe didn't have its own station. As a young lad he would certainly have enjoyed hanging around watching the comings and goings.

The entrance to the ticket hall was clear now and he was about to make his way through when he noticed the woman sitting alone on a bench at the far end of the platform. The train had reached her and she lifted her head as it passed and then stood as if she meant to climb on board when it stopped. His heart skipped a beat. It was Bella.

X-X-X-X

The approach of the train had startled Bella. She had forgotten everything for a while and had only been dimly aware of another local train pulling into the station a few minutes ago. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and stood up somehow glad to be leaving this place with all its miserable associations. The train had travelled beyond her and she found herself following in its wake as a cloud of steam from the tender blew in her direction and surrounded her. As she stepped out of the mist and headed for the carriage door closest to her someone grasped her hand and pulled her away. She turned her head in astonishment and her eyes met Tom's.

X-X-X-X

The café opposite the station was serving breakfast. Bella had a large mug of strong tea in front of her but the idea of eating greasy bacon was making her feel queasy. Tom sat opposite her. He looked tired, his hair was unkempt and she had the overwhelming urge to reach forward and comb it with her fingers. Not very long ago she would have done just that but she didn't dare now. He was gazing at her with concern and she knew what was uppermost in his mind.

When he'd grasped her hand and pulled her back from the train she had been astonished and then quite inexplicably burst into tears. Tom was the last person she had expected to see and after everything that had happened in the last twelve hours she couldn't help herself. Tom had stared at her in shock and then instinctively hugged her, folding his arms around her so that she could bury her head in his chest and cry for as long as she wanted. Passengers had come and gone some glancing at them with bemused expressions, the train had departed but they had stayed exactly where they were. When Bella finally raised her head to look at Tom, eyes red, slightly puffy and shining with tears she had simply said, "I could murder a cup of tea."

They had crossed the road to the café and Tom had ordered two teas. It was still quiet and they sat at a table near the window in silence. Neither of them knew where to begin the conversation and in the end Bella whispered, "Why are you here?"

Tom looked at her and without the slightest hint of embarrassment said, "Because I love you and whatever has happened, I'll still love you."

She felt close to tears again but she reached across the table and grasped his hand, "Nothing's happened. Nothing like that." He knew at once that she was telling the truth and smiled at her, overwhelmed with relief. He squeezed her hand and they stayed like that hand in hand across the table as they drank the remainder of their tea.

X-X-X-X

"Come with me."

They were back at the station an hour later waiting for the London train. Bella was going home and Tom was returning to barracks to face the music. They had been talking about the end of Tom's National Service and the fact that he would be coming home in a couple of months for good. Bella had asked him about his plans now, making it clear that she understood and accepted that he wanted to travel and he had stunned her with his response.

"How can I?" she cried.

"There must be a way," Tom said, "Why shouldn't you come with me as well?"

Bella grimaced, "How could I ever hold my head up in Nethercombe again if I went traipsing around the world with you? Imagine the gossip. It just don't work like that, Tom." She shook her head with a sad smile, "You might think I'm a rebel but I'm not that brave."

They fell into silence as they contemplated the situation but Tom's mind was racing trying to find the answer to something he realised he had probably known all along. Bella looked at him and saw hope in his eyes, hope mixed with anxiety, "If you don't think you can cope with gossip then we'll just have to keep everyone happy won't we."

Bella was confused, "What do you mean?"

Tom took a deep breath, "Do it the right way…marry me."

Bella was astonished. She couldn't speak for a full ten seconds and in the silence that followed could see Tom's fears growing moment by moment clearly believing she was about to turn him down. When she finally managed to utter something her words tumbled out, "But we're not twenty one and you're in the army and we haven't got anywhere to live or been saving up for ages or anything like that."

To her surprise Tom laughed, "Thank god," the relief in his voice was evident. "If that's what you're worried about then don't." He looked into her eyes. "Do we need any of that? Look, Bella, I won't always be in the army. In a couple of months I'll be free. I've been saving up a bit to travel. We could start by going to France and work our way around. There's always casual work if you don't mind turning your hand to anything. Think of it as a long honeymoon." His thoughts were gathering speed, the excitement in his voice was obvious to Bella. It was incredible she thought, just an hour ago she had been despairing about her future and now Tom was offering her his hand in marriage and a wonderful and exciting future but she knew that she had to ask him the question that was uppermost in her mind,

"You're not just asking me because of all that stuff I said before about not waiting because I _would_ wait for you Tom, however long it took. I've been stupid and I almost spoiled everything." She was completely in earnest realising at last the value of everything she and Tom had shared.

He reached for her hand, squeezed it tight and held it close to him, "Well, I was wrong too. I know that I want to go out and see the world, alright," he rolled his eyes looking a little embarrassed, "but I also want to be with you. I've always wanted to be with you and I realised that going off around the world wouldn't mean anything to me if I was on my own. I want someone to share it with and someone to reminisce with when I'm old." He looked into her eyes, all hint of embarrassment gone. "No one else will do, Bella. I know we're young but marry me and we'll go out and see everything together. We can grow up and settle down later."

Bella was fighting to contain her emotions. How could everything have turned out so wonderfully? She scarcely felt she deserved this. She was almost overcome by the certainty that she wanted what he wanted. She nodded and scarcely able to speak whispered, "Yes."

Tom's eyes were wide with delight, "Do you mean it?"

She nodded her head again and smiled. He swept her up in his arms, lifted her from her feet and swung her around laughing, his words tumbling out, "I love you Bella."

She laughed, "I love you, too, Tom Stimpson. Now put me down and bleedin' well kiss me."


	21. Chapter 21

**_This is the final chapter. Thank you to everyone who has read or reviewed this story over the past few months. It's been a long haul but you have always been very kind and encouraging. I really appreciate your comments and your commitment in reading this story through to the end. I'm sorry it has taken so long to write but I started a new job in the summer so I've had to divide my time more than usual. I've really enjoyed writing the trio of 'Another' stories but I think this is the natural end for the post-war James family and so there won't be 'Another' sequel. I also have to say a final big thank you here as well to Tony Grounds for creating the brilliant Charles and Molly. We all loved series one and have had great fun continuing their story in so many different ways. Can't wait for series two and whatever it may bring._**

 **Chapter Twenty One**

"There's really nothing else quite like it and if you don't believe me, ask Marjorie."

The ladies of the Nethercombe Women's Institute laughed as Molly concluded her talk by gesturing in the direction of her friend who had been sitting behind the projector changing the slides whenever Molly indicated. They were the photographs taken during her flight with Molly and most had come out well. The President stood and led the applause and Molly beamed with pleasure at the unexpected realisation that her talk on flying, navigation and Nethercombe from the air had gone down rather well. Looking towards the rear of the Village Hall she was surprised to catch sight of Charles hovering near the door watching her, a broad smile on his face as he joined in heartily with the applause. Like the rest of the audience he has been impressed. Molly was a natural public speaker, confident but not so over-rehearsed that she sounded as if she were delivering a script, able to convey the subject concisely and with enthusiasm as well as injecting humour in the right places. She had kept the ladies interested and entertained for half an hour and one or two were keen to ask her more questions over tea which was about to be served.

Charles strolled towards Molly, conscious of glances in his direction.

"Ah, Mr James, I understand we have you to thank for our guest speaker today," the President said seeing him approach.

Charles shook his head, "I don't think so,"

"Oh but you are, " Miss Morrison insisted, "Mrs James told us how you taught her to fly after the war."

Charles smiled, "I see. Well, all I can say to that is she was the best pupil I've ever had." He caught Molly's eye as he spoke and saw a smirk on his wife's face. However, maintaining an innocent expression he continued, "She was a natural from the start."

"Well, it was absolutely fascinating," the President replied, "You've really thrown down the gauntlet. Mrs Blenkinsop will be feeling the pressure with her 'Brass rubbings of Gloucester Cathedral' talk next week. Very well done, Mrs James."

The President withdrew to make her way to the tea table leaving Charles and Molly alone for a moment. Molly lowered her voice so that she couldn't be overheard by anyone else, "You were talking about my aviation skills just now weren't you, Charles?"

Charles looked down at her and saw the mischievous twinkle in her eye. He fought the urge to laugh aloud but couldn't hide his amusement, "How could you think anything else of me? As if I would be so daring in front of the President especially when they've only just decided to accept you."

Molly couldn't help glancing in the direction of Lady Wilton and thinking of all the times they had clashed recently until the sudden turn about in her opinion last week. She had sat near the front of the audience this afternoon, listened intently and applauded loudly at the end. Molly narrowed her eyes, "I still can't believe that Lady Wilton is so keen on me, now. Do you think it's just an act?"

Charles maintained a neutral expression, "It might be, but I don't suppose she'll change her mind." He could imagine how much the realisation that she would have to make a public show of support for Molly had probably rankled with Lady Wilton but she was doing everything within her power not to rock the boat. Like Sir Percival, she had no intention of having her position in society or her integrity questioned. The news about the lies they had been told concerning the requisitioned airfield land and worst of all why had been a bitter pill to swallow but both Sir Percival and his wife had done what was asked of them. Lady Wilton might not like Molly very much but in public she had ceased to oppose her and it seemed as if the she was being accepted into the fold. After today's talk many were seeing her in a completely new light.

"So you came to see how good she was," Marjorie called out to Charles as she put the final slides back in the box and walked over to join her friend and her husband.

Charles nodded, "I crept into the back of the hall just after you started and I'm very glad that I did. You were wonderful."

"Yes, " Marjorie agreed, "You showed them all that there's much more to you than meets the eye. I don't think this is the last time you'll be asked to speak here."

Molly smiled and blushed a little at the praise. She'd been a bag of nerves when she had first stood up but somehow she'd overcome that very quickly and it had felt strangely empowering to have everyone's attention.

"Well, the photographs were really good too, Marjorie." She lowered her voice, "Glad you took out the one of Lady Wilton bent double with her backside in the air," they both started giggling like schoolgirls.

Charles watched them both and pretending to be disapproving said, "Ladies please, remember where you are," to which both of them giggled even more. He leaned towards Molly and kissed her on the cheek, "I've got to go, darling. I'm meeting with Richard and a surveyor at four to go over the runway plans. I'll see you later."

Molly watched him leave, stopping to exchange a few pleasantries with some of the ladies as he passed through the hall and notably nodding in Lady Wilton's direction. She inclined her head in acknowledgement with the semblance of a smile but Molly couldn't help thinking there was an air of sadness about her too. She looked deflated somehow before turning to Miss Morrison a moment later, the veneer already back in place.

"How are things at home?" Marjorie asked causing Molly to turn back in her direction.

"I can't lie, Marjorie, but It's a relief to have Bella back," she replied conscious that Marjorie might not feel the same about her sister's return, "I know she's had her moments recently but I've missed her and so have the children."

Marjorie smiled, "Don't look so worried. You won't hear any complaints from me. Tom phoned us and said it was all a misunderstanding about you know who," she lowered her voice conscious of Lady Wilton in the room, "And if they're both happy and back together then I am too." She leaned towards Molly, "Actually, I've missed Bella as well so has our Robert and if she wants her job back she's more than welcome."

X-X-X-X

As Molly turned into the drive of Greystones she saw Bella in the garden with William, Edward and Rose. They were trying to play hide and seek although only William understood the rules of the game. Edward and Rose were laughing and trying to hide in plain sight whilst Bella was pretending that she couldn't see them which produced even more giggles. William, seeing his mother coming up the drive ran to her looking annoyed,

"Eddie and Rose aren't playing properly, Mummy."

Molly smiled and put an arm round him, "They don't understand it yet, William, but it won't be long. I bet you'll soon have trouble finding them, alright," William rolled his eyes and didn't look convinced. He stalked off and Molly catching up with her sister and bending to scoop Rose up into her arms at the same time said, "Oh dear, looks like Will's not amused."

Bella grinned at her sister, "You should know what it's like, being the oldest."

Molly pulled a face, "Yes, having to put up with so many annoying little sisters and brothers. I suppose I can sympathise with him, there."

Bella tapped her playfully on the arm, "Watch it, or I'll take offence and go home again."

Molly smiled at her, "You _are_ home, now."

When Bella had been telephoned Molly on Sunday and told her that she and Tom had made things up between them, she had asked if she was welcome to come back to Greystones and Molly had cried, "Don't be daft. Of course we want you back. We've missed you. I wish you hadn't run off in the first place like that." There had been a pause and then Molly had added, "I'm sorry about being so cross with you."

Bella had sounded sheepish when she replied, "Well, you were right, so I can forgive you being cross."

The following day she had returned. Charles had gone to Cookham Halt station to collect her and bring her home and she had been left in no doubt that Molly meant what she had said. She had rushed forward and hugged Bella saying, "Please don't ever go off like that again. We've all missed you so much."

To Bella's relief Hattie had left having been released from hospital and received a ticking off from the Police, she had escaped any charges and had reluctantly returned to Ipswich with Violet. Molly had confessed that she didn't think Hattie was likely to stay there very long but for the time being Hattie had said she was prepared to give it a go.

"She's got too many big ideas to settle for now," Molly said. "I just hope she finds something she really wants to do."

The news that Hattie had been embroiled in shady dealings and mixed up with a several less than reliable characters hadn't surprised Bella. In a quiet moment she admitted to Molly that she had once seen the bruises on Hattie's back, "I knew something was going on but it was her business and to be honest I just didn't like her. I feel a bit sorry for her now, knowing what happened but I suppose she's learned the hard way. Like me."

Molly raised her eyebrows, "All that business with Peter Wilton?"

Bella gazed at her sister trying to gauge what to say. They had always been close but she didn't know whether she wanted to confess the whole story of what had happened in Oxford last Friday. Tom knew and that was what really mattered. In the end she decided to tell Molly that when Tom had received the letter he had come to see her, they had talked about things and made up. They had both agreed not to mention Tom's proposal for now and their intention to get married as soon as he returned from National Service. Tom had two months left to serve and neither of them was twenty one. They couldn't get married without their parents' permission and they had agreed that when he returned they would talk to both sets of parents and explain everything although in the meantime they had started to make plans. The journey back to London had given them time to talk about the practicalities. They both felt that if their parents would agree then there was nothing to wait for. They didn't need a big wedding and Tom had saved what he could which would be enough to get them across the channel and some cheap accommodation to start. They would go to France and head south. In the late summer there was work to be found grape picking and in they were both excited about the future.

Bella looked at Molly and thinking about Peter Wilton again and everything that had happened said, "I don't think Peter's entirely bad and he's not entirely good either but in the end I knew he just wasn't right for me and it took me a little while to realise it." She knew that she had been stupid and misjudged everything but had realised her mistake in time. Tom had told her that it didn't matter and she believed him.

X-X-X-X

It was late. Molly had dozed off in the armchair, listening to the wireless and when she awoke she was surprised to see that it was almost eleven o'clock and she was alone. Bella had been with her earlier. She remembered her bringing a cup of tea at half past nine but it was still on the table next to her untouched and now stone cold. Molly supposed that Bella must have gone to bed without wanting to disturb her. She stood up and stretched, turned off the wireless and headed out into the hall. It was dark but she could see a light under the door of Charles' study. He had gone in there after dinner and must still be busy. She wandered towards the door, gently pushed it open and looked in.

Charles was sitting at his desk with plans spread out in front of him. He looked up as she entered the room and smiled at the sight of her walking in, rubbing her eyes, "Hello sleepy head."

"Why didn't you wake me?" Molly asked.

"You looked so peaceful. I just didn't want to disturb you." He reached out to her and patted his lap, "Come and sit down"

She joined him and he hugged her close, nuzzling her neck and enjoying the feeling of being close to her. Molly glanced down at the plans on the table, "How's it all going?"

Charles lifted his head, "The plans should be ready in a few weeks and all being well they'll go through the Planning Committee. We've had some positive responses from members and local businessmen seem to be in favour. As a matter of fact, I was talking to Michael Stafford this morning and he told me he's got plans to set up a small passenger service between Croydon and Northern France and depending how it goes he might set up another service from here. The interesting thing was he said he'd be seeking a hostess to look after passengers on flights and I thought of Hattie and mentioned her." He looked up at Molly, "Was that wise, do you think?"

Molly smiled, "I think it sounds just like something Hattie would want to do and it's a proper job. She wants a bit of glamour and adventure that sounds just about exciting enough. To be honest, Charles, I don't think she'll get herself mixed up with the wrong people again. She's learned her lesson. It was kind of you to try to do her a favour," She bent her head kissed him on the forehead. "Thank you."

He hugged her closer and they sat in silence enjoying the quiet moment of togetherness in the stillness of a house where all were asleep but them.

"Did you ever think everything would turn out like this when we first met?" Molly whispered, thinking of the good fortune that had given them the life that they now shared. Charles cast his mind back to the first time he had seen Molly, dressed in her baggy WAAF overalls out at the dispersal area at RAF Milton, laughing inappropriately as he had tried to bring the crew of C for Charlie to order. He had considered her cheeky and disrespectful and had slapped her down with a particularly arrogant comment. He had to smile. She was still cheeky and had no time for people with false airs and graces but now he wouldn't want her to be any other way.

He shook his head, "Back then I only dreamed of a life like this." He kissed her, "Sometimes you have stand back and remind yourself just how wonderful everything really is. Because it _is_ wonderful, Molly, and there's so much more to come."

The clock in the hall struck eleven. Molly gazed at Charles, "It's late. We should go to bed."

Charles smiled and murmured, "That sounds so inviting."

Molly squeezed his hand, "You're very welcome."

X-X-X-X

 **September 1952**

The cockerel in the yard crowed and Tom stirred from his sleep and forced an eye open. His vision was still blurred but he saw Bella sitting on the bed leaning over him with a smile full of mischief on her face. He felt something tickle the end of his nose and caught a glimpse of the piece of straw in Bella's hand that she was using to disturb him. "Stop it," he murmured but she giggled and did it again so he had no choice but to reach out and pull her down to him rolling her playfully onto her back, with the offending hand holding the straw pinned down against the pillow. "If you do that again I will have to retaliate."

Her eyes laughed at him, daring him and he willingly accepted the challenge, pulling her into his arms, holding her fast and kissing her with such a passion and intensity that they both very quickly forgot about the matter in hand and lost themselves in the exuberance and luxury of being in each other's arms the way they had day and night for the six weeks since their marriage. The joy of being together, travelling and experiencing a different way of life had not diminished. If anything the realisation that this was the path they had always been destined to follow only intensified their feelings for each other. These past few weeks they had seen life unfold before them, discovered everything together, struggled sometimes to make themselves understood in a foreign language, worked hard and fallen into bed at night, exhausted but happy, to whisper secrets in the darkness, to hold each other close and to sleep content in the knowledge that they were doing everything they had always wanted.

When Tom had returned from his National Service in early June and he and Bella had told Marjorie and Robert that they were engaged, they had both been delighted. The news that they intended to dispense with a big wedding, marry immediately and instead of settling in Nethercombe meant to travel for an extended period of time had been met with great surprise and initial concern, at least from Marjorie. Robert however, seemed to understand them better and had told them both not to worry. He said that he would talk Marjorie round and he had. The realisation that both Tom and Bella fully intended to come back and settle down in the future seemed to quell Marjorie's fears and she began to take an interest in their plans. Dave and Betty were less concerned. Bella had already flown the nest and in their separate ways they both understood and to some extent envied Tom and Bella. The memory of her parents disappointments in the way life had turned out for them was enough to convince Bella that they would support her decision.

The wedding had taken place at St Marys in Nethercombe on a beautiful summer's day in late July. Bella had been loaned a wedding dress by Penny Statham's cousin, Joy, and the reception had been held in the Village Hall with Molly and Marjorie providing the wedding breakfast. They had left for Dover that afternoon and Charles and Molly had paid for a night in a smart hotel as their wedding present. They had laughingly remembered their own wedding night at The Grand Hotel in Great Yarmouth during the war with the wind rattling the window frames as a force eight gale blew off of the North Sea and Molly had declared that if they were about to spend a lot of time roughing it the young couple should have something rather grander for the start of their married life if only for one night.

Now here they were six weeks later in the South of France, bringing in the grape harvest on a vineyard, spending long hot days in the sun and accommodated in a hayloft with spectacular views across the valleys.

Tom watched Bella getting dressed, the early morning sunlight falling on her bare skin now tanned from the long days in the hot sunshine. She bent to pick up a slip from the floor and he watched her pull the garment over her head, allowing it to glide and float as it covered her body. She turned to look at him, "Aren't you going to get up, lazy bones? Monsieur Reynard won't be happy with you if you're late."

Tom sighed, "I'll just tell him I was admiring the view."

Bella snorted with laughter, "You won't be thinking about the same sort of view."

Tom smirked, "Maybe not, but he's a Frenchman he'd forgive me."

"I'm sure he thinks I'm just your bit of stuff and we're not married," Bella said buttoning her blouse.

"Well there you go, then, " Tom replied. "That just proves what I'm saying. He's a Frenchman."

Bella wandered to the open window of the hayloft and looked out at the valley below, the rows of vines criss-crossing as far as the eye could see, a heat haze already forming in the distance. Another hot day but she loved it here. They would stay for as long as there was work and when the weather turned colder they had plans to go to the Alps. Some of their fellow grape pickers had told them there was work to found in the winter season and the idea of spending the winter in the mountains appealed to them both. Bella had visions of skiing, ice skating and sleigh rides like an old Sonja Henie film and herself wrapped up in a fur lined cloak. It was nonsense she knew, but to spend the winter and Christmas in a snowy playground, sounded delightful.

Tom got out of bed and came up behind her sliding his arms around her waist to hold her fast. He bent his head to rest next to hers and took in the view, "Penny for them."

Bella smiled, "Nethercombe seems so far away now."

"Do you mind?" Tom asked wondering for a moment if the novelty of their travels had begun to wane.

"Oh, no," Bella replied without hesitation, "We've got a long way to go, yet."

THE END


End file.
